Mischief Managed - MissandMarauder One-Shots and Drabbles
by MissandMarauder
Summary: HP One-Shots and Drabbles with various plots, lengths, and ships. I'll update as things strike my fancy and love prompts if you ever want to send them my way!
1. Table of Contents

Mischief Managed

MissandMarauder Drabbles and One-Shots in the Harry Potter universe.

Table of Contents

1\. Table of Contents

2\. A Voice Like the Devil Pairing-Severus Snape/Hermione Granger, Rating: T

3\. Alone Together: Pairing-Theodore Nott/Luna Lovegood, Rating: T

4\. Mistletrapped: Pairing-George Weasley/Hermione Granger (With a hint of Fred...you'll see what I mean.) Rating: T

5\. A White Peacock Feather: Pairing-Lucius Malfoy/Hermione Granger (Past Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy) Rating: T

6\. Prongs and the Blue Fairy Potion: Pairing-James Potter/Lily Evans and Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Rating: T

7\. A Seat on the Train: Friendship-Albus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy, Rating: K+

8\. The Empty Frame: Pairing-Severus Snape/Hermione Granger, Rating: T

9\. Sometimes Fate Decides: Pairing-George Weasley/Hermione Granger, Rating T

10: The Shortcomings of Felix Felicis: Pairing-Severus Snape/Lily Evans, James Potter/Lily Evans, Rating: T

11: She Sees: Pairing-Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott, Rating: T


	2. A Voice Like the Devil (SSHG)

A Voice Like the Devil

Written for the Q&P Comp, Not Quite Human

Pairing: HG/SS

Rating: T

* * *

Severus Snape clutched his tumbler of firewhisky, knuckles turning white with the pressure of his anxious grip.

It was inconceivable. Impossible. Undoubtedly the most ridiculous thing he had ever thought, yet he knew it was true.

Hermione Granger - brightest witch of her age, incurable swot, shining member of the thrice-damned _Golden Trio,_ insufferable know-it-all, and one of his least favourite students of all time - was his... _mate_.

The word felt heavy in his mind and clawed at the back of his throat. But while his composure was completely torn asunder internally, he continued to exude his usual aura of boredom and aloofness. Eyes black as pitch scoured the room, hoping for a distraction from the lovely witch who held the potion master's attention beyond his will, oblivious to his intense scrutiny and the scowl he sent her way.

She looked absolutely enchanting, and he hated her for it. Well, he wanted to hate her, anyway. He found it impossible to do so, of course. Damn his stupid, hidden Veela heritage.

Apparently, the Prince side of the family was to be thanked for more than his hooked nose and limp locks. They also carried a Veela gene that was extremely rare and usually recessive, though, when it presented itself, the carrier was known as a Dark Veela.

Unlike their fair-haired counterparts, Dark Veela were not known for their good looks and were almost always male. There were only a few obscure, ancient books on their kind, but it seemed that all of them were known to have a silken, seductive speaking voice. It lured potential mates into the Dark Veela's clutches, not unlike the sirens of Muggle mythology.

Severus Tobias Snape wouldn't be caught dead singing, of course.

The thought sent a disgusted sneer ghosting across his face and drew him back to the scene at hand. His mate twirled by in a dress as deep and intoxicating as an aged red wine, made all the more delicious by the sparkle of black garnets draped across her collarbones and around her neck. The dress covered one shoulder but left the other bare, and Severus' blood and instincts screamed at him to kiss and taste the skin there. Her hair was twisted into an elegant updo, so the Potions Master couldn't even mock her normally unruly curls.

" _Blast her_ for being so bloody perfect," Snape said under his breath.

"What was that, Professor?"

Severus whirled to face the person who had snuck up behind him. Lily's eyes looked up at him through the face of her son. "Mr. Potter. How good of you to descend from on high to mingle with us common folk."

Harry snorted. "I don't think anyone would dare to call you common, Professor. I've heard quite the opposite in the gossip here tonight, in fact."

 _S_ nape blanched at that. Had his secret somehow gotten out? Had the fools at St. Mungo's found a way to break the wizarding oath he'd forced them to take when they nursed him back to health after Nagini's attack in the Shrieking Shack?

Minerva McGonagall had found him, sprawled out on his back, a new pair of great black wings flung out to either side beneath him. They dripped with his own sticky blood, gleaming like obsidian in the moonlight. Coming so near to death that night had kicked his Veela genes into action, saving his life and landing him with a rather lovely set of feathered appendages attached near his shoulder blades. They were easy enough to hide with a series of disillusionment charms, but anyone would still be able to feel where they nestled, folded as close as possible, if they reached out to touch his back.

Luckily, that was not really a concern for one Master Severus Snape, tyrant of the Potions classroom and great bat of the dungeons. There was a reason so many students - and adults - had feared him and even wondered if he might be a vampire. He wasn't, of course, but it would appear that he was some sinister creature, after all. All of that added up to make him quite sure no one would attempt to touch him.

Harry reached out to clap Severus on the shoulder, narrowly avoiding knocking Severus' wing in the process. _Bloody Gryffindors_ , thought Severus, _always have to go and do everything they shouldn't._

"Indeed," he finally said.

Harry raised an eyebrow and pressed on. "How have you been, Professor? You look a bit tired."

Snape snorted. _Tired?_ he thought. _I'm at death's bloody door, and he says I look tired!_ Outwardly, he said, "How astute of you, Mr. Potter. I have, in fact, seen better days."

That was the understatement of the century. Dark Veela only had one year from the time their Veela side was revealed to the day they must find their mate. If they were unable to do so in the allotted amount of time, they would simply die. Severus had hidden away for much of his year, avoiding contact with the fairer sex - and thus their contact with his voice - as much as possible. As his day of reckoning crept closer, however, he started to grow desperate. He had survived two decades of war, life as a spy, and many years in a Potions classroom. He sure as _hell_ wasn't going to give up the ghost now.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

When his forays into wizarding London and Hogsmeade had not revealed his mate, and with only days to spare, Severus had concocted a desperate plan. He would take a dose of Felix Felicis he had stashed away and spend the entire last day of his year trying to find his mate.

He had taken the potion that very morning, and his thoughts had tugged and pulled at his stubborn resolve until he'd finally decided to go to the memorial ball being held to remember the witches and wizards who had fallen in the war and celebrate the first anniversary of their victory over Voldemort.

He would never tell anyone, but he'd even bought new dress robes. Apparently, the luck potion wanted him to travel in style.

Harry smiled, seeming to find some hidden meaning in Severus' sentiment about seeing better days. "Haven't we all? Oh, hey, 'Mione."

Severus had been so distracted with his conversation with the Boy Who Lived and his own thoughts that he had been completely oblivious to the witch's arrival at his side.

"Hello, Harry. Professor Snape." She nodded at him, eyes friendly and surprisingly warm. "Actually, Professor, I was on my way over to ask you to dance. Minerva said you've been quite the wallflower all night. She insinuated that not even the bravest witch would ask you to dance, so of course, I am here to prove her wrong." She grinned in defiance the way only a true Gryffindor can.

 _Meddling again, are we, Minerva?_ Severus thought.

He went to respond to his mate before remembering just what his voice would do to her. He did _not_ want the witch to choose him simply because of his stupidly seductive voice. In the end, he decided to give his signature sneer. _Let her interpret that how she will._

She had the audacity to chuckle. "You're looking well, Professor."

He quirked a brow at the blatant lie. He may have filled out in the year since the end of the war, but he looked sallow and sickly with his impending mate-finding deadline nearly upon him. Avoiding answering, but knowing that he needed to use his last few hours wisely, he put down his barely-touched whiskey and held out his hand to lead her onto the dance floor.

Seemingly unafraid of carrying on a one-sided conversation, Hermione said, "Everyone has been wondering what happened to you, you know. We all knew Minerva found you after the battle," at this, the couple shared a grimace before Hermione continued, "but we've hardly heard anything about you since. Where have you been?"

Again feeling hesitant to speak, he lifted his hand from her waist and twirled it in the air, hoping the gesture interpreted as, "A little here, a little there," but thinking, _I really should just learn sign language._

Hermione's brow furrowed in a familiar look of concentration. "Professor…" she began, pausing to draw in a slow breath, "is there a reason you're not speaking to me when I saw you talking to Harry just a moment ago?"

The black ice of his stare bore into her own eyes, but he didn't try to communicate beyond the look.

"I'll take that as a yes, then. Can you tell me why?"

A quick shake of his head.

"May I try to guess?" her brown eyes swirled with the amber of excitement, and her interest in his well-being and in the various mysteries of his person filled one of the many cracks in his war-worn heart. He nodded once.

She bit her lip. _Damn, that's distracting._ "Does it have anything to do with what happened on the night of the battle?"

Another jerky nod from her dance partner sent a new question tumbling from her lips. "Are you sick?"

Snape shrugged at this, not quite sure how to answer.

She squinted a bit at him, seeming to question her thoughts before allowing him to hear them. "Were you... _changed_ …at some point during the battle?"

His jaw dropped open in shock. Even with her work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he had honestly never thought that she'd guess what ailed him without his help.

"Merlin, I didn't expect to be right! I had read that near-death experiences could wake a dormant recessive gene, but _Merlin_!"

"Yes, you said that once already," Severus snapped thoughtlessly. His eyes went wide when he realized his mistake.

Hermione had a look of awe and bliss on her face. "A Dark Veela. I've read the few books and files the Ministry has that mentions them, and I've always wondered what the influence of one of their voices would feel like. It's wonderful," she gushed with a happy sigh.

Snape held his mouth firmly shut, lips turning even more pale under the pressure.

After a moment, the drugged look left Hermione's features, and she suddenly looked apprehensive. "Wait. If your Veela side woke up during the battle...that must mean your year is nearly up!"

Severus nodded, wishing he could just spirit the witch away and quiet her ridiculously swotty mouth by covering it with his own.

"Have you found your mate?" she asked, head tilting slightly to the side as she waited for his response.

After a beat, he nodded again, face free of emotion and eyes guarded, ever the Occlumens.

"Well, who is she? Why haven't you claimed her yet? And what exactly does that entail, anyway? My research fell short on that subject." Her curious stare bore into him, and the answer to her question rang out in his mind as the desire to make her his own grew.

He touched a calloused thumb to her lips, drawing it gently along the outline of her mouth. Her lips parted in response, and he only just managed to hold on to his self-control. Severus Snape did not force himself on witches.

Not even one who was his mate and literally the one thing that would keep him alive past the next few hours.

Hermione's eyes sparkled with interest and something else he didn't recognize as she sought his gaze, and she said, "A kiss. Who is the lucky lady, then?"

Snape stared into the warm depths of her eyes before allowing his eyelids to flutter shut. How could he tell her? She was his student for six years. Her best friend was the embodiment of all his worst fears come to life, complete with the emerald irises of his first love. She loved books and work more than any sane person should. She was absolutely insufferable.

She was his. He needed her. In some strange, involuntary way, he had already started to love her, flaws and all.

He opened his eyes again, losing himself in the coffee-coloured depths with their flecks of gold. How had he never noticed the exquisite blend of colours before? Severus willed her to understand, unable to get the words off his tongue, afraid of her response and the future they might have together.

Her head stayed cocked to one side, thoughts whirring so fast that Severus could practically hear the wheels turning in her mind.

He saw the moment when the truth hit her like a bludger to the chest.

"M-me?"

The stammer was adorable and a little bit insulting. She shouldn't be scared of him. He would protect her. Claim her. Worship her. His eyes went to scan over her curvy form again, feeling immensely pleased with his Veela blood for at least picking someone young and attractive. He supposed anyone would be beautiful if the Veela side of his blood and mind decided she was the one, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he'd finally gotten something right.

He hoped a short sentence would help Hermione hold on to her right mind. "Indeed."

She gazed up at him, mouth parted slightly in adoration. After the daze wore off again, she shook her head. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

The Potions Master raised an incredulous brow at the implied challenge. _My witch likes to play with fire_ , he thought.

The silence stretched out for a moment too long, made all the more awkward by their intense eye contact. Hermione cleared her throat and forged ahead. "It would be terribly selfish of me to let a war hero die." She blushed, seeming to finally realize how brazen and purely Gryffindor she sounded.

 _Will the house of scarlet and gold never cease with their plots to save the lives of the less fortunate?_ Severus wondered.

Seeing nothing for it, he decided he had to talk to her. "Why would you do that for me?"

Her blush deepened. _Intriguing._

She didn't wait for the drugged state to wear off this time before she responded. "You're beautiful."

An involuntary choked laugh exploded from Severus' chest. "I assure you. I am not."

"You are. I've kept an eye on you tonight. There's something different. You look better, even with your year running out. It must do you good not to have two megalomaniacs breathing down your neck in the midst of a war."

Snape gave a genuine chuckle at that and sarcastically responded, "You are too kind, Miss Granger."

Their dance ended, and he pulled her hand through the crook of his arm, following his instincts to lead her away from the Great Hall and out onto the grounds.

They walked in amiable silence for a few minutes before Hermione started in with another round of questions. "How did you know it was me? And don't make me play twenty questions. Just answer me. I can handle it."

Smiling at his witch's bossy tone, Severus replied, "Magic, I suppose."

"But how? I didn't find much about that in my research," she commented, sounding much less concerned about her lack of knowledge on the subject than she normally would.

"I knew the minute I saw you tonight. Instinct, perhaps." He shrugged one shoulder, wishing he had a better answer for her.

She eyed him curiously, eyes still glazed with the power of his voice. "Why didn't you say anything?" She wilted as her right mind came back to her. "You thought the prospect of death was more appealing than a life with me?"

"NO!" He shouted before he could stop himself. Regaining his control, he more calmly declared, "No. I was simply enjoying the view for a moment while I worked on downing some liquid courage. I know you're my mate, and I'm glad of it."

Hermione's eyes suddenly went from his face to his back and gasped. "Your wings!" she whispered. "How did I not notice them before? They're beautiful!"

Amused at being called such a thing twice in one night but confused as to why she could see his disillusioned wings, he asked, "You can see them?"

Hermione simply nodded, still staring at as much of his back and wings as she could see from her place at his side, giddy smile plastered across her face.

He had heard rumours that one's soul mate would be able to see him or her clearly, even under disillusionment spells. He had no firsthand experience with the phenomenon, however.

"Apparently acknowledging you aloud somehow permits you to see past the disillusionment charm," the Veela mused. He ruffled his feathers a bit, allowing his wings to partially unfurl and easing the tension in his back and shoulders. The inky wings reflected the moonlight with a soft luminescence, and Hermione stood transfixed.

"May I touch them?" she asked, voice full of quiet reverence.

At his consenting nod, she stepped behind him and ran gentle fingertips over the tips, sending a pleasurable shudder down Severus' spine. His wings fluttered out to extend fully under her touch. The girl was going to be the death of him. He'd only been thinking of her in a romantic sense for an evening, and already she held such power over him.

"Why aren't you afraid of me? Of the prospect of a life with me?" he questioned.

She smiled at him. "Why should I be? I've always known you to be a good man if a bit of a grumpy one." He rolled his eyes, but she continued, "And I trust magic. It hasn't failed me yet. Why would it now?"

He tilted his head in contemplation, considering her words before responding. "Magic has failed me many times. I've been a tool to be tossed around by the two most powerful wizards of our time. Magic is killing me now," he finished, not bothering to hide his frustration.

Hermione surprised him by rolling her eyes. "It's killing you because you've been too stubborn to do anything about it."

"It's your choice now, not mine."

She scoffed. "Don't play the martyr with me, Professor. Or should I be calling you Severus now?" Shrugging, she went on, "I'm sure we'll figure it out. But I've already made my decision. You haven't."

Taking in a ragged breath, he said, "I choose you."

She smiled. "Maybe magic wants to make it up to you."

Laughing, he allowed his arms to wind around her waist. "By rewarding me with a Gryffindor know-it-all?"

She tilted her head back to gaze at him. "Why not? I've heard Veela couples are usually very happy. It couldn't hurt to try."

He lost himself in her eyes for a long moment before whispering, "May I kiss you, Miss Granger?"

Her fair skin glowed in the light of the moon, and she blinked coyly up at him. "Absolutely."

Hesitantly, he lowered his mouth to hers. His hooked nose bumped her cheek, but she didn't seem to mind. Her lips were deliciously smooth and tasted of champagne. As he deepened the kiss, a zing of something that could only be magic raced from his lips through the rest of his body, leaving even his fingers and toes tingling.

"Mine," he growled, claiming her mouth again. Nothing had ever felt so right. He nipped at her bottom lip, and her gasp of surprise granted him entrance. Their tongues danced together as the couple lost themselves in the swirl of magic and attraction.

When they were both out of breath and thoroughly snogged, she pulled back and whispered, "Yours."


	3. Alone Together (TNLL)

Alone Together

Based on a Q&P aesthetic prompt by I was BOTWP. Thank you!

Pairing: TN/LL

Rating: T

* * *

The bride and groom stood in a shallow break in the face of the rocky hill, alone save for the stretch of daisies as far as the eye could see. The flowers had been the bride's handiwork. She had said that flowers made much better wedding guests than people did, and he had laughed, soaking in the joy of the moment, made all the sweeter by just being alone together.

"My little nefelibata," he murmured, taking her chin between his thumb and fingers and turning the biggest blue eyes he'd ever seen up to meet his gaze. "Never satisfied with the things of this world. Always with eyes turned to something no one else can see."

She ran a dainty hand over the midnight blue lapel of his dress robes, smoothing away invisible wrinkles, and tilted her head to the side, their gazes still locked. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "I'm quite satisfied with you."

He lifted an aristocratic brow. "Is that so?"

She nodded, and the trailing, golden tresses that fell from her daisy and wildflower crown jostled in the wind. "Rather thrilled, actually."

He wrapped a hand around her waist, surprised to find bare skin on her back. The gown was very conservative in the front, complete with capped sleeves and a high neckline, and the unexpected brush of skin sent a shiver down his spine. She smiled up at him, clearly following his train of thought, and he whispered, "Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"

Nodding, she replied, "Just this morning. Did the nargles make you forget?"

Laughter burst forth, completely unexpected, from his chest. She was good for him like that. Neither of them really had anyone else anymore, and he counted it as a true miracle that she had wandered her curious way into his life and decided to stick around.

XxxX

Both of them had lost their mothers before they even went off to Hogwarts, leaving them each with a shell of a father, though Xenophilius Lovegood and Thoros Nott couldn't have been more different. Luna had still had a home full of love, even if it was a broken, lonely sort. Theo had endured endless, brutal lectures on the superiority of "their" kind and the saving grace of the Dark Lord. Their talks usually ended in a heavy-handed smack across the face and a reminder not to go out in public without a glamour. Luna missed her father and visited his grave often. Theo didn't even ask where his father had been buried. They had their friends, but the thought of having the Malfoy, Potter, and Granger-Weasley clans all in one place didn't appeal to either of them. It was bound to be an ugly experience for everyone involved, and that wasn't what they wanted for this special day. It was supposed to be about them.

It was an unexpected twist of fate that brought the lovers together the first time. Theo had come back to Hogwarts after finishing his Mastery in Potions. Headmistress McGonagall had groomed him to take over the professorship from Slughorn during his late seventh year at Hogwarts, helping him apply for any apprentice positions that interested him and tacking on a glowing letter of recommendation to the back of each one. He wasn't sure if McGonagall truly thought that highly of him or if he was simply the least detestable option for a future Head of Slytherin House, but he appreciated her help anyway. It would likely have been impossible for him to get any job more prestigious than manual labour without the Headmistress in his corner, and he thanked her often for her support.

The week after he arrived back from his apprenticeship in Spain found him standing in the hall outside of the Headmistress's office. The house elf who let him in at the gates told Theo that McGonagall was in another meeting and would call for him when she was ready. So Theo waited, fiddling with the edges of his CV and wondering why he'd brought it when McGonagall knew every step of his education and training by heart; she'd been the one who orchestrated it all. He was so wrapped up in nerves over his first real job interview that it took him a minute to realise that the staircase to McGonagall's office was opening up, and someone was descending. The purple heels and lemon yellow tights appeared first, followed by a matching purple sundress and an assortment of turnip jewellery. The woman looked familiar to him, but it took the space of a few breaths for him to see the girl he remembered in the woman before him.

"Lovegood?" he asked, not fully trusting his eyes in that moment.

"Hello, Theo," she murmured. "You're looking well. We may as well call each other by our given names. It appears that we will be seeing quite a bit of each other when we both start working here in the fall." She cast him a knowing smile and wandered off down the corridor.

The lonely male part of Theo's brain that had barely been allowed to talk to a member of the fairer sex - much less enjoy any kind of romantic relationship - for the duration of his Potions Mastery program caught on the part where she thought he looked nice before it caught the rest of her words. "Erm, thanks," he called after her, "but I haven't been offered the position yet."

She was still within earshot and turned, walking backwards for a moment as she replied, "You brought back some Spanish Pixie dust in your robes. That promises good luck for at least the next fortnight, maybe longer."

Theo turned this way and that, peering down at his robes in an effort to find the dust she spoke of. He thought the robes looked spotless when he put them on. He'd bought them shortly before coming back home, just to make sure he made a good impression at his meeting with McGonagall.

"I don't see anything," he mumbled, but she was already gone.

He stopped fidgeting with his clothes just in time for the Headmistress to come down the staircase that led to her office. "Mr Nott. Thank you for coming. Right this way," she said, leading the way up the stairs.

When they reached her desk she sat down and motioned for him to follow. A tea tray appeared, and McGonagall started pouring as she spoke. "It's good to see you, young man. I have received frequent updates on your work from Master Pérez, but I'd love to hear it from you. How have you been? Are you still open to the idea of taking the position of Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House?" She raised an eyebrow, clearly ready for the answer she expected.

He decided not to beat around the bush and gave it to her. "I am. I would like to take some time before school starts to go over past professors' notes and curriculum with you before the start of term, as I think some things are outdated, but I came here today with full intentions of accepting whatever you have to offer."

The Headmistress fairly beamed. "Wonderful. I am very happy to hear that. I'm sure we can figure out any necessary changes over the course of the summer. I will be doing a bit of a new professor orientation with Miss Lovegood next Monday to show her the ropes, living quarters, faculty resources, and the like. Would you care to join us?"

Theo didn't think on it for long. "I'll be here."

He and the new Care of Magical Creatures professor quickly hit it off. Their stroll through the Hogwarts castle and grounds, led by the Headmistress, was relatively short. After the main tour, McGonagall left them to settle in.

The pair stood in the middle of the faculty lounge, surrounded by cosy brown leather couches, tables for a quick snack or marking papers, and large windows that framed a spectacular view of the Black Lake and the town of Hogsmeade and the forest beyond it.

The silence stretched out as Hogwarts' newest professors stood next to each other, lost in felt like it had been far too long since his last Hogsmeade visit, so he impulsively turned to Luna and said, "I fancy a trip down to the Three Broomsticks. Care to join me?"

Her dreamy stare slowly drew away from the window toward his face. "I wondered how long it would take you to ask."

Theo wasn't sure why, but the statement amused and pleased him. He offered the witch his elbow - some of the pureblood customs trained into him since birth weren't all that bad - and escorted her down to the grounds and out to Madam Rosmerta's homey pub.

Theo wasn't fond of strong drink, after seeing the fits of rage it brought on for his father, so he ordered a butterbeer. Luna asked for the same.

Their conversation took up the better part of the afternoon, wandering from their adventures after their last year at Hogwarts - where they had shared a few classes when the repeating seventh years and the year behind them were combined due to small class sizes - to their plans for the coming school year. Luna was thrilled to be adding new creatures to the Care of Magical Creatures curriculum, as she had found and interacted with several impossibly rare species on her two year trip across the continent. Theo grinned lazily at her as she rambled on about the benefits of listening to snarktrill song every new moon, happy to soak in her effortless sunshine.

After a few drinks, their talk wandered to their families. When Theo joked about them being the two loneliest survivors of the war, Luna reached across the table to grab Theo's hand and murmured, "It's funny how it doesn't feel quite so lonely when we're together."

Anything Theo may have said in response to that got completely stuck in his throat, so he offered her a shaky smile and laced his fingers through hers, hoping it was enough.

Their relationship had come together quickly and easily after that. For Theo, being with Luna was like breathing. He was like one of Longbottom's plants, and she was his sun. It wasn't long before his days revolved around sharing tea with her in the dungeon faculty room where none of the other staff members dared to go and stolen moments holding hands or sneaking kisses under the stars. He found himself opening up to her, finding poems he thought she might like, and dreaming about the future. In all his life, he'd never dreamed of having a family. The only model of family he'd seen at home had been riddled with death and abuse. Even the Malfoys, who loved each other dearly, had nearly destroyed their son in their efforts to bring the Dark Lord to power. Theo didn't bear the mark on his arm, but he knew he still smelled of a life of pureblood privilege, wealth, and ideals. But he had never believed those things or wanted that life for himself. He had seen firsthand the insanity and pain the supremacist pureblood lifestyle brought into the homes of himself and his friends, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

He wanted Luna.

Luna with her ridiculous vegetable jewellery and otherworldly sight. With her overly sweet tea and her wand sticking out of her golden honey hair. With her way of making everything alright with a simple hug and a nonsensical phrase. With her rabbit Patronus that had nuzzled his cheek the first time she had shown him the spell.

He'd been terrified to try it for himself, feeling certain that he'd never be good enough to make the charm work. He'd read that only the pure in heart could cast a corporeal Patronus, and he'd almost broken under the weight of his disappointment when he'd managed only a wisp of silvery smoke the first time.

Luna hadn't been fazed. "Slow and steady wins the race," she'd chimed, coming to stand behind him, hand cradling his own as she bid him to try again. It took a few more attempts, along with a discussion on proper happy memory selection, but eventually, an enormous tortoise burst forth from his wand. He'd choked out a laugh and turned wide eyes to Luna, hardly believing what he saw. She placed a soft kiss on his lips and murmured, "I rather like that we're a funny pair," before conjuring her own Patronus and watching it gambol about Theo's much slower tortoise.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck with his nose and whispering, "I rather like you."

XxxX

The haze of happy memories surrounding the bride and groom seemed to thicken for a moment, wrapping their little clearing in the woods in a blanket of privacy and contentment. The air shimmered with the force of their combined magic, and they pulled out their wands to complete the bonding.

Clasping left hands, they took turns sharing their vows, each promise adding a band of gold or silver light glowing around their wrists.

Theo went first. "I vow to be the one who holds your hand and your heart."

Luna responded, "I vow to be your other half."

"I vow to be your best friend and protector, keeping you and any children we may have safe from all harm to the best of my ability."

"I vow to be your best friend and nurturer, showering you and any children we may have with the love of a wife and mother."

A single, silent tear slid down Theo's cheek, but his voice stayed quiet and strong. "I vow to be grateful for you every day of my life, Luna. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me."

The usually unshakable woman's smile trembled just a bit. "And I vow to be grateful for you until my dying breath and probably beyond, Theo. My Theo."

He pulled out two rings from his pocket, offering his to her so she could slip it on his hand. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Theo's hand shook as he fingered the golden band with its swirl of diamonds and sapphires. "With this ring, I thee wed," he repeated, sliding the ring onto her hand.

They finished the bonding with a combined murmuring of an ancient Latin marriage spell, singing under their breath together of love, trust, fidelity, friendship, and promise. Hardly anyone used the spell anymore since it was irrevocable and enforced complete fidelity, but Luna and Theo knew there would never be anyone else.

The bond glowed bright white for just an instant, leaving a shadow of the runes of the bonding ritual wrapped around each of their left wrists in its wake. Theo traced a gentle thumb over the symbols on Luna's wrist, marvelling at his impossibly good luck and wondering what he'd ever done to deserve her.

Luna, ever more perceptive than anyone else gave her credit for, leant in to give him a soft, meaningful kiss. One that promised love and togetherness today and for many years to come. One that showed her acceptance of every bit of him, his past, his flaws, and all.

"We deserve each other."

Theo couldn't find the words to respond, so he simply claimed her lips once more, dipping her gently as he showed her the depth of his gratitude and love in a way that words just couldn't explain.

Luna's eyes were bright when he pulled her back up, her lips pink and looking delightfully snogged. "I rather think I'm going to like being married to you, Mr Nott."

"I know I'm going to like being married to you, Mrs Nott."

"Mrs Nott. I love the sound of that."

"Mrs Nott. I love you."

And he took her hand and Apparated her away. They had a honeymoon to enjoy.


	4. Mistletrapped (GWHG)

Mistletrapped

Written for the Q&P Comp, Under the Mistletoe

Pairing: GW/HG

Rating: T

* * *

George Weasley stared into his brother's grey-blue eyes thinking, for the first time in his life, that the bloke really wasn't all that good looking. Normally he loved joking about how handsome he and his identical twin were - easily the best looking of all the Weasley boys - but they had been stuck under their latest version of enchanted mistletoe for almost an hour, and the situation was looking pretty grim. This particular strain of mistletoe - dubbed "Snoggerrific Mistletoe" by George's other half - was guaranteed to hold anyone who got caught under it hostage until each victim had been thoroughly snogged, tongue and all.

They had hung up the first six bunches of the tainted stuff without incident. It had gone rather swimmingly, in fact. Much smoother than many of their Christmas pranks from previous years. George's ear still smarted from the way McGonagall had twisted it as she towed them to her office when the previous year's prank - spiked eggnog featuring Rumor-has-it Rum - had turned the castle into one big bubble of gossip and hurt feelings. Hermione had overheard them laughing and congratulating each other over the prank's success and turned them in; it had fallen to McGonagall to dish out their detentions.

But now, here they were, stuck under the mistletoe together. Peeves had turned on them after years of mutual respect and professional understanding, curse his little poltergeist soul, and quite literally shoved them under the last bunch of mistletoe. The prankster didn't seem to be able to restrain himself from throwing the twins underneath their own invention, knowing full well that it was impervious to more or less all removing charms and manual methods of removal for 24 hours.

So the Weasley twins stood together awkwardly, alternately staring at each other intently and looking anywhere else. At this point, they were pondering if they could snog each other just to get out of this mess. Since there were no classes that day, no one had happened upon them where they stood in one of the obscure corridors on the seventh floor.

Which was all for the best, George told himself, since their predicament was bloody embarrassing, and it didn't look like it was going to be over any time soon.

"Oi! Gred! Look who it is," Fred suddenly exclaimed, breaking through the unbearable silence.

"What's that, twin o' mine?" George turned to look around and spotted their favourite Gryffindor prefect, bushy curls fanning out around her as she strolled leisurely toward them, completely absorbed in the book she was holding.

"Oh, hello, Hermione!" He affected a casual air, hoping that she wouldn't realize what they were up to and dock house points, or worse.

"'Mione! Aren't you looking lovely this fine evening?" Fred chimed in. "Have we ever told you how great your legs look in those stockings?"

George whipped around to face his brother again, wondering what on earth could be motivating Fred to say such things to the girl their little brother had been eyeing for years.

He didn't have to wonder long.

"Listen, love," Fred continued. "We're in a bit of a sticky situation, here. You see, George and I have gotten ourselves stuck under some enchanted mistletoe, and all our usual charm-breaking spells aren't cutting it. Would you be a dear and give us a good snog so we can be on our merry way?"

George's jaw dropped so far that it hurt a little bit. He snapped it closed and glared his best impression of their mother in Fred's direction, hoping he'd see sense and wait for someone less likely to hex their balls off to help them escape the mistletoe's clutches. Fred was a little too fearless at times, George thought to himself.

Hermione quirked a brow and stopped a few yards away from the twins, clearly wary of the mistletoe and possible secondary pranks that the twins might be trying to trick her into triggering. Rightly so, George admitted to himself; they had given her plenty of reasons to believe the worst of them over the years.

Finally, the girl spoke. "Suppose I do help you, then? What's in it for me?"

George's eyebrows shot up at that, nearly getting lost in his shaggy fringe. He had never - ever - thought he'd see the day when Hermione would help them with a prank. Even though technically all she was doing was helping them out of this one.

He was so awestruck that he didn't realize he was letting his dunderheaded brother do all the talking. Fred grinned. "Well, you'd get to snog the two best-looking blokes in Hogwarts and say you'd snogged twins. Quite an accomplishment, even for a perfect little swot like you." His grin turned cheekier, if that was even possible, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's going to take a little more than that to persuade me, Fred. Like, maybe, a promise that you will no longer do any product testing in the common room." The twins shared a glance at that, communicating non-verbally for a moment before turning back to face Hermione.

"Done," Fred pronounced before holding his hand out to Hermione.

George stood awkwardly close to his twin's side, turned to face him, stuck in place by the power of their horrid mistletoe invention. He couldn't really move, so Hermione's robes brushed against him as she slowly moved closer and threw her arms around Fred's neck.

George couldn't decide if he felt terrified or a little bit turned on by the new Hermione Granger. Somewhere along the line, between the affectionate, sibling-like banter they'd all shared over breakfast and that moment, she had completely changed. She was confident, sassy, and...sexy. George swallowed dryly, wondering where all the air had gone in the hallway, and watched as Hermione quickly snogged Fred, sneaking in just a bit of tongue before she pulled away.

Fred had a glint in his eye as they broke the kiss, but he mostly just looked relieved. He burst away from the circle of magic that had kept them trapped for the past hour and ran down the hall, jumping once to click his heels in a show of unreserved giddiness. He had just gotten the biggest swot in the school to snog him, so George couldn't really blame the bloke for reacting in such a way.

Suddenly nervous, George stopped staring off after Fred over Hermione's head and met her amber gaze. Her lips were a touch more pink than usual, and her cheeks held a hint of a blush. Her thick curls were windblown and a little mussed from the kiss she'd shared with Fred. Her mouth was trying to hide a smile but failing miserably. She was clearly enjoying seeing the twins fall prey to one of their own pranks. Especially because they'd needed her help to get out of the mess.

George must have stared a moment too long, because Hermione suddenly furrowed her brow and said, "Is there something on my face?" A small, ink-stained hand came up to trace over her face, feeling for whatever might have caught George's attention.

He caught her hand in his, unsure where all these rioting pixies in his stomach had come from, and huffed a nervous laugh. "Just some freckles and such. And, as a Weasley, I can hardly give you a hard time for that."

She smirked back at him, unsure now of what he was going to do and starting to feel a little nervous herself. He captured the hand that had started tracing over the freckles on her nose and used it to pull her closer. Her body was suddenly against his, all soft and tiny, and her mouth parted slightly in surprise.

Before he lost his nerve, George dipped his head to kiss her.

It was slow at first, like a real first kiss, one hand twined with hers and the other gently holding her cheek and sliding into her hair. He hadn't expected Hermione to be such a good kisser and briefly pulled away to stare at the girl in his arms, who still had her eyes closed in a rather adorable way. He couldn't resist the pull her lips had on him, and he found himself lost in kissing her once again.

Hermione let out a soft sigh, and George tentatively let his tongue explore the edge of her bottom lip. She opened to him, and the sensation of their tongues learning each other felt better than the high he'd felt after every prank he'd ever pulled. She smelled like lavender and vanilla...and books and ink. She tasted like she'd been snacking on a sugar quill recently. The hint of sweetness was perfect, and he smiled a bit against her mouth before placing a final kiss on her lips and a tiny peck on her nose.

This kiss was clearly different than the brief one she'd shared with Fred, based on the dilation of her pupils within her honey-amber eyes and the fact that she hadn't moved a hair away from where George had so neatly pulled her against his own tall, lanky frame. One of her hands had woven its way into his hair, and the other clutched at the robes on his lower back. She was breathing harder than usual, and her lips were starting to look deliciously swollen.

Trying not to preen too much, but still enjoying the sight in front of him and the evidence that Hermione had clearly enjoyed their kiss as much as he had, George simply said, "Thanks, 'Mione."

Hermione nodded, but her gaze flew up to the mistletoe above them as it started to sprinkle enchanted snow down upon them. "What's this, then?"

Feeling mortified, and a little pleased with himself, but not especially surprised, George mumbled, "That happens if a couple has any...connection, let's call it." He tried to smile but knew it probably looked more like a grimace. Hermione's glowing eyes had returned to his face, and she ran the hand in his hair down to the back of his neck before pulling him in for one more gentle, lingering kiss.

"Connection, hm? Is that what they call this?" she whispered with a hint of a lopsided smile. He couldn't help but mirror it with one of his own. "As enlightening as this has been," she continued, "I imagine we should probably get a move on if we don't want Fred or the others to come looking for us." They both chuckled at that, and Hermione turned to head towards the nearest staircase.

Her fingertips brushed George's for just an instant before she moved away, but the contact sent a shock all the way to his toes.

As he watched the thoroughly snogged prefect sway slowly down the corridor, George realized he still didn't know what had gotten into Hermione that day, but he found he didn't really care. He leapt away from the hold of the mistletoe and trotted after her.

Thank Merlin for Snoggerrific Mistletoe!


	5. A White Peacock Feather (LMHG)

A White Peacock Feather

Based on a W&B aesthetic prompt

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy/Hermione Granger (Past Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy)

Rating: T

* * *

Narcissa Black strolled past the queue of sorry souls waiting to congratulate her ex-husband and the new Mrs Malfoy. Hermione was every bit the luminous bride, swathed in silk and pearls, with a white peacock feather in her hair from Lucius' prized pea-brained pets.

Ignoring Lucius' trophy wife, Narcissa grabbed the man by the arm and hissed, "You will end this charade at once!" He raised one pale brow and replied, "There was a point in time when I would have done anything for you, but not anymore."

The words ricocheted through her mind, the meaning clear.

This was _real._


	6. Prongs and the Blue Fairy Potion (JPLE)

Prongs and the Blue Fairy Potion

From the Q&P Once Upon a Parchment Competition

Winner for Best Romance, Judge's Honorable Mention, and Runner-up for Best Retelling of a Fairytale

Beta Love: RooOJoy

Pairings: James Potter/Lily Evans and Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley

Rating: T

Song Recommendation: Make a Move by Gavin DeGraw

* * *

Sirius was sitting in his favourite armchair in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place when Harry finally found him. The older man was silently nursing a tumbler of firewhisky, his grey eyes lost to a world beyond the flames of the fire that held his gaze.

Even though Harry had been quiet, he knew Sirius' canine hearing had given him away when his godfather spoke, not bothering to turn his head towards the doorway where Harry stood.

"You couldn't sleep either, pup?"

Harry made a noise in the affirmative before sleepily shuffling to take the armchair opposite Sirius' own.

The Animagus picked up the bottle of firewhisky and held it out to the younger man, giving it an enticing little wiggle. Harry laughed but shook his head, knowing getting drunk was the last thing he should be doing before he went back to school the next day.

He just knew he would miss Sirius and wanted to bask in the loving presence of his godfather for every possible moment before he had to get on the train. The length of time between holidays seemed unreasonably long now that he had a little taste of having a family all his own to miss. And Sirius always welcomed him home with open arms, an offer of a drink, and a story.

This night was no different.

"Have I ever told you what happened to make your mum finally give old Prongs a chance?"

Harry screwed up his forehead, trying to dredge up the memory from the many tales he had heard of the Marauders' adventures, before shaking his head. "I don't think so. Hermione would be absolutely appalled that I never thought to ask about that." He looked chagrined but happy to be receiving another little piece of the puzzle that was his parents.

Sirius grinned. "I always took all the credit for how happy they were together because it was technically my fault things happened the way they did…"

"It was a day much like this one, cold and blustery and white all over. Prongs was going Christmas shopping. He always went alone, since he knew we'd take the piss out of him for whatever he bought Lily, and his parents thought it was sweet, how much he adored her, so they left him to his own devices.

"On this particular shopping trip, Prongs found the best gift yet. It was a pair of emerald earrings. They were the most beautiful jewellery any of us had ever seen, which is saying something, coming from a pair of little aristocrats like Prongs and me. Anyway, the emeralds matched Lily's eyes -" he paused, casting a warm glance in Harry's direction and tacking on, "- and your eyes - perfectly. It was after he left the jewellers, though, that things went wrong…"

* * *

 _James Potter hated Christmas shopping. All it did was remind him of how utterly hopeless he was. He had three friends who adored him - or at least put up with his endless moping and helped him live out his dreams of being one of Hogwarts' most fantastic pranksters. His parents thought the world rose and set over his miserable arse. He lived a great life! Why did he have this endless obsession with something - someone, really - he could never have?_

 _He hitched his wad of shopping bags higher on his shoulder, feeling grateful for the strength Quidditch afforded him and thinking that he really wished he were more adept at Charms._

 _He tried not to let his thoughts go there, but his mind betrayed him._ I bet Lily casts a brilliant feather-light charm. _It wasn't entirely his fault. Lily really was good at pretty much everything._

 _He should know. He'd spent the better part of the past six and a half years watching, analysing, and worshipping her._

 _Most people had a conscience. James had a miniature voice of each of his best friends stuck in his skull. The Sirius voice in his head came out to mock him._ And what good has any of that ever done you? Move on, Prongs! So many other birds to chase, mate.

" _But I don't want any other birds, Pads," he muttered under his breath, pulling his scarf a little tighter around his neck as he thought of the beautiful emerald earrings he had picked out for Lily's late Christmas gift. He knew they would probably be rejected posthaste, like every other gift he'd ever given her, but that never stopped him from trying. "I just wish she could see me for who I am…"_

" _There's a potion for that, dearie," a shaky, wizened voice informed him._

 _James whirled around, caught off guard. "W-what?"_

 _An elderly woman who lived up to every stereotype of the word "gipsy" stood in front of him, hunched over the counter of her booth. Her hair was so black it was almost blue and streaked with grey, all wild and curly. She wore about a million layers of clothing - all of them blue - but the visible ones were a flowy, tattered ankle-length skirt and a chunky knit sweater with matching scarf and hat. There was a glint of mischief in her eye - Marauders recognize that emotion anywhere - and a ragtag band of jingling jewellery peeking out at her neck, wrists, and ears. "You heard me, boy. That lady love of yours. She'll know the truth about you." She held out a potion, swirling it gently in its flask. "All you need is this."_

 _He took it from her with care, feeling inexplicably drawn to the shimmering blue liquid within._

 _But his brain finally kicked in, and he realized that it sounded much too good to be true. He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed at his own gullibility. "What does it do...exactly?"_

 _The crone laughed. "They call this one the blue fairy. It will make your wish come true. If you decide to take it now, it will help your lady love see the truth about you, whatever it may be." She cast him a sideways glance and a grin with a mouth full of surprisingly white, straight teeth. "If your intentions are pure, she'll know it."_

 _James nodded with earnest conviction. "They are. I...I love her." His ears and cheeks felt hot beneath the chill of the winter air._ Though I'm not sure why I told _you_ that, _he thought to himself._

 _Her smile turned from secretive to businesslike, and she started writing up a receipt. "That will be fifteen galleons," she informed him without looking up._

 _That set off alarm bells in his head. That was a fair amount of money to waste on a fake potion._ Then again, _he thought,_ what is all the old family money good for if not love?

Sap, _the Sirius voice in his head accused._

 _James fished the coins out of his pocket, placing them into the old woman's open hand and gently wrapping the phial of potion in a clean handkerchief before tucking it away in his coat pocket. He smiled at the old woman and waved in farewell. "Thank you."_

" _You're very welcome, deary. I haven't had an unhappy customer yet. They don't call me the blue fairy for nothing."_

 _James' brow furrowed at the curious statement, but he was too cold to continue the conversation any longer. He cast her a confused smile and headed for home._

* * *

 _The train ride back to Hogwarts seemed to take an eternity._

 _James Potter sat in the Heads carriage, twirling the phial of sparkling, sapphire potion between his fingers. Lily was patrolling the cars, ensuring no members of the opposite sex touched, no pranks were executed, and a good time was not had by all._

 _He sighed, huffing out a bone-weary breath._ If Evans is such a stick in the mud _, he thought to himself,_ why do I _like_ her so bloody much? _He shook the potion up a bit, eyeing the thick, shimmering liquid with trepidation._ No one should ever like someone so damn much when there is no hope that the other person will feel the same.

 _He sighed again, feeling so very tired of his perpetual role of lovesick schoolboy. He'd been in love with Lily Evans since first year, but she seemed to hate him more every time they saw each other until he was made Head Boy and she Head Girl. She had then tolerated him, polite but aloof, for the sake of their Head duties._

 _Leading the student body together meant that they saw more of each other than Lily would have ever chosen, and James knew that._

 _An enormous black snout appeared in midair across the carriage, quickly followed by an equally large dog, leaping through the air and becoming a wildly grinning Sirius Black mid-tackle. James yelped, protecting his most important bits in a last-ditch effort to keep his manhood intact amidst the assortment of dangerously flailing limbs that was Sirius Black._

 _Once he was finished terrifying James, Sirius rolled into a more comfortable position and settled on James' lap. "Such a sad sap, our Prongsie. You sigh more than a petty pureblood mother." His grin turned a little painful, but his voice continued on with confidence. "I would know."_

 _James shook his head at Sirius' antics, not noticing until it was too late that Sirius was eyeing the phial in his hand with great interest. "What's this, then?" he asked._

 _James deflected. "Please don't leave the cloak just lying around for anyone to find." He shoved Sirius off his lap and bent to pick his invisibility cloak up off the floor and carefully fold it before stowing it in an inside pocket of his robes._

" _Pro-ongs. What is this little potion for, hm? Did you finally allow your dad to send you something to fix that awful mop of yours?" He flourished elegantly towards James, continuing, "This, ladies and gents, is the up-and-coming generation from the family that brought you Sleekeazy hair products." He rolled his eyes, mimicking listening to the crowd's disbelief. "Trust me, I know."_

 _The Sleekeazy heir ruffled Sirius' own perfect black curls, currently grown out past his shoulders. "Oi!" Sirius exclaimed. "Watch it if you know what's good for you,_ deer _," he warned, chortling at his tasteless pun._

 _The Head Boy continued to ignore his best friend's teasing. "Where are Moony and Wormtail? I didn't see them on the platform, and I've been too busy trying to avoid Lily since we've been on the train to look for them."_

 _Sirius eyed the phial again. "Is that what this is? A potion to make you forget your unrequited love?" He grimaced, feeling bad for rubbing the ever-sore-spot in James' face. "Sorry."_

 _James had finally had enough. Sighing, he admitted, "It's something stupid that I picked up when I was Christmas shopping. It's probably a fake, and I feel stupid for buying it." He ran his hands through his hair, letting it stand on end. "Just forget about it, alright?"_

 _That didn't sate Sirius' curiosity. "What's it do, then?" His jaw dropped incredulously. "You weren't going to_ drug _her, were you? Not after all these years of honest effort to win your fair lady's hand."_

 _Thinking that his face probably couldn't get any redder, James replied, "No. It's for me. It's supposed to prove to Lily that I'm sincere. And that I have good intentions." He rested his crossed arms on his knees, dropping his head down onto them to avoid whatever look was about to take over Sirius' face._

 _Unsurprisingly, Sirius was all over the idea of taking a mysterious potion of unknown origin, ingredients, and effects. "Give her a go then!"_

 _James recoiled from his friend and the outstretched potion he was sure was only a hand's reach away. "No. I'm sure it's rubbish. I was just feeling lonely over the holidays and bought it in a moment of weakness."_

" _Don't tell me this was her Christmas present?" Sirius teased._

 _Burrowing deeper into his arms, James said, "You know it's not, Pads."_

" _Ooo, what did you get her, then? An engagement ring that she can't refuse? Maybe you should try that_ and _the potion at the same time. Go big or go home, right?"_

 _Groaning, James continued to hide but dug around in his pocket and stuck the box that contained Lily's actual gift in Sirius' general direction._

 _A soft huff of surprise escaped his mouth. "James, these are beautiful."_

 _A pained groan came from where James was trying to smother himself. "I know."_

 _Sirius shook his friend's shoulder, urging him back into a sitting position. "She'd have to be crazy not to love these, James."_

" _If only it were that easy to get her to love_ me _," James complained._

 _Sirius brightened, slapping the phial back and forth between his palms in a manner that James truly did not appreciate - for the fear of wasting the fifteen galleons it took to buy the potion if nothing else._

 _The next instant played out as if suspended in time, and James watched as Sirius fumbled the tiny glass. He dove for the floor, hands stretched out in an utterly ridiculous rendition of a game-saving snitch catch._

 _But James was not the team seeker for a reason._

 _Even with glasses, his depth perception was not great with items this small. Quaffles, no problem. Tiny, flipping, flashing objects? Not so much._

 _He undershot his catch, and the tiny jar ended up falling just shy of his outstretched fingertips._

 _There was a flash of blue smoke as the glass shattered._

 _Then he just saw black._

* * *

" _I cannot_ believe _he took a potion from some back alley witch! Horace doesn't even know what this is, and that worries me. Not that we had much to go on, considering Black only saw it for a moment before this happened."_

 _James groaned, trying to sit up in bed._

 _His entire body felt…_

 _Stiff._

 _And not in a good way._

 _He reached up to ruffle his hair, but it was…_

 _Hard._

" _What the hell?" he muttered._

" _Language, Mr Potter!" McGonagall snapped, and James pried his eyes open. The Transfiguration Professor and Madam Pomfrey were standing near the foot of his bed. Upon seeing that her patient was awake, the mediwitch rushed over to peer into his eyes and cast a barrage of diagnosing spells, but his Head of House continued, "Considering the current circumstances, I will not be docking house points. Watch your tongue in the future, if you would, please."_

 _James frowned. Every muscle in his face felt weird. "Current circumstances? Am I dying? I_ knew _that potion was a bad idea."_

 _Madam Pomfrey perked up. "Do you know what the potion is? What's in it? Where we can find the antidote?"_

 _He had never heard Poppy Pomfrey ramble so, even after the worst of Remus' full moon injuries, and that worried him._

 _A lot._

 _He cleared his throat. The entire school knew about his feelings for Lily, so he forged ahead. "The witch I bought it from said that it would help Evans see me for who I am." He blushed. "That she would know I truly care about her."_

 _McGonagall's brow furrowed, but Pomfrey stilled. "Did she say anything else? A name? Or the potion's name?"_

 _He thought for a moment. "Nothing about the potion, but she called herself the blue fairy."_

 _The mediwitch's eyes grew wide, and McGonagall said, "I take it you've heard of her before."_

 _Pomfrey nodded. "Years ago, when I was still finishing up my healer training at St. Mungo's, I helped treat a woman with a broken leg. She said a peddler called the blue fairy had overheard her talking to herself about how she wished she could find a man to love and take care of her. Said she looked like a gipsy if I remember correctly."_

 _James nodded in confirmation._

" _Anyway, the blue fairy gave her a pair of glass slippers and promised they would help her fall in love with the man of her dreams. Later that same night, she put on the slippers and got ready to go out. But she tumbled down her own front steps and had to Apparate herself to St. Mungo's with a broken leg."_

 _James groaned. "Great. I bought a potion from a crazy lady with a knack for hurting people." He tried to flop back into a horizontal position, but it ended up being more like a slow creaking motion before his head heavily hit the pillow._

 _Pomfrey coughed. "Be that as it may, the story ended happily. Her leg was easily mended, and she ended up falling in love with the other healer who helped her that night."_

 _James felt his jaw drop, like a hinge swinging open._

 _The strange sensations throughout his body finally urged him to take stock of what exactly was going on that had the mediwitch so concerned. He sent his fingers out to trace over his legs and chest, finally sliding them up his neck to his face. He could feel his eyes opening wider the more he explored what was supposed to be skin and bone._

 _McGonagall glanced at Pomfrey, who gave a short nod. "Wood, Potter. You've been turned into wood."_

 _James groaned and let his eyes fall shut once more._

 _Wooden hands muffled his voice as he groused, "I just wanted her to like me."_

* * *

 _The next morning found James in the Head Boy dorm room, holding unusually still while Remus helped him tie his tie and Sirius poked him every few seconds. Peter sat on the edge of the bed, looking confused and worried and sorry. They weren't good looks on the already mousy-looking young man, and they made James feel worse._

" _Do I have to go?" James asked for the third time since Pomfrey had released him that morning, saying he appeared to be alright and "hopefully it will wear off," which was possibly the least heartening prognosis he had ever heard from a healthcare professional._

 _Sirius bounced on the balls of his feet, full of the nervous energy that came from being a canine Animagus and knowing that your friend being poisoned was almost entirely your fault. "Of course. Pomfrey said that going about your normal routine can only help. And who knows? Maybe this interesting new development will catch Lily's eye." He shrugged, trying to make the issue smaller than it was. "Stranger things have happened."_

 _James groaned. "Oh, why did you remind me? I can't see Lily like this!"_

 _Remus smoothed down James' tie, finally satisfied with his knotwork. His tactics were different than Sirius', as usual. "You're going to go down there and pretend like everything is normal - or like this is the greatest prank you've ever pulled, if that is easier. Lily will think you're just being your usual ridiculous self if she notices anything at all. It's your own fault that you bought the potion in the first place," he paused to smack Sirius in the arm, "and it is_ your _fault for smashing it in his face._

" _Now," he continued, helping James put on his school bag before slinging on his own, "Let's get this over with. Quick, like a Band-Aid. We'll visit the library between classes and see if we can find an antidote or counter-curse for whatever it is that did this."_

 _They tromped down flight after flight of stairs, all the way from the Head dormitory to the Great Hall, in solidarity, with Remus and Sirius flanking James and Peter bringing up the rear. They claimed their usual seats in the middle of the Gryffindor table, and James let out a sigh of relief that no one had said anything when he heard a shriek._

" _Potter!"_

Why is she always yelling at me? _James thought bleakly._

" _Yes, Evans?" he replied, calmly buttering a piece of toast and wondering if his body was even capable of eating anymore._

" _McGonagall told me you weren't feeling well, but this is… What happened to you?" She was still shrieking, but her volume had lessened from deafening to merely piercing as she drew nearer and sat next to him, unceremoniously pushing Sirius out of the way._

" _Erm," he realized he hadn't thought of a good excuse yet, "prank gone wrong, you could say."_

 _Before the words had finished leaving his mouth, the strangest sensation took over his nose. It almost felt as if it were...growing._

 _And since James could suddenly see it (without going at all cross-eyed), he knew it actually had. "What the hell?" he grumbled, wondering if his life could actually get any more embarrassing._

 _Lily was eyeing him with her best rendition of dagger eyes, her brows scrunched together adorably. "Are you made of…" she trailed off, apparently unable to finish. Her face was screwed up in a confused mix of mirth and what almost looked like concern._

 _Remus piped up from the other side of the table, nonchalantly putting his porridge on hold as he took a sip of tea. "Wood. Yes, he absolutely is."_

" _When you answered before, why did your nose grow?"_

 _James' eyes flicked between the girl of his dreams and the looming presence of his nose just below his spectacles. "I have no idea."_

 _Thankfully, his nose stayed put this time. James was a little scared to talk now, for fear of other body parts behaving strangely._

 _Sirius was hiding a snigger on the other side of Lily, saying, "Our Prongs always was a bit_ nosy. _Now his outsides just match his insides."_

 _Lily scoffed, apparently not appreciating his sense of humour. "Let me guess. You did this, didn't you, Black?"_

 _Sirius looked affronted, putting a hand over his heart. "Your words hurt me. Tell your Lily-flower to be nice to me, Prongs."_

" _Why should I?" James raced through possible excuses for his ailment. "You were the one who hexed me!" His nose stretched out even further. "Damn it!"_

 _Now Sirius was truly offended. Marauders lied to the rest of the world, but they did not lie to each other. "I did not! It was your own stupid fault for buying that potion -" he was cut off mid-thought as James reached around Lily to slam a hand over his friend's mouth._

" _A lie," Lily murmured. She suddenly turned to James, touching him voluntarily for the first time in his life._

 _It was lovely, her hands all soft and cool upon his cheeks._

" _Potter, look at me." He did so. "What colour are my eyes?"_

 _Instincts kicked in faster than his brain did. "The most beautiful emerald green I've ever seen in my life."_

 _Nothing happened._

 _Lily tilted her head in thought, considering something. "Now tell me my hair is...something other than red."_

 _James frowned but mumbled, "Your hair is black, which is not nearly as exquisite as fiery red. For the record."_

 _His nose grew again, and he whimpered._

 _Lily looked chagrined. "Sorry. Just had to be sure. You should be fine if you tell the truth for the rest of the day. I have to go to class now, but I'll see you at our Heads meeting later tonight."_

 _She hurried away, the hair James worshipped so openly streaming out behind her._

 _The Head Boy sat on the bench, frozen, his breakfast forgotten._

 _For the first time that he could remember, Lily Evans had just told a lie._

 _There was no Heads meeting that night._

 _Why would she say there was?_

* * *

 _The break between Defence and Potions found James alone in the dungeons. It was a relief to have a moment alone after a day filled with poking and prodding and insensitive questions that James opted to ignore instead of risking a lie and the possibility of watching his nose grow yet again. It already stuck out far more than usual._

 _His respite was short lived, though, for his favourite Slytherin was gliding his way down the Potions classroom corridor. James turned to put his back towards his old nemesis, but Snape had already seen him and the ridiculous appendage sticking out from his face. The Slytherin sneered as soon as he stood in front of James._

" _Nice nose, Potter."_

 _James shrugged. "It's a shame to mess with perfection. Potion gone wrong, you know. Happens to the best of us." His nose inched forward again, much to his chagrin._

" _No," Snape jeered, "not to the_ best _of us."_

 _The Gryffindor bristled, spitting out the first insult that came to mind. "Don't worry, you're still the reigning tyrant in the realm of enormous noses. Not even this can put your beak to shame. All hail King Snivellus!" He swept a mocking bow._

 _Snape flushed a scarily Gryffindor shade of red. "I don't know what anyone sees in you. You're unintelligent, boring, and absolutely hopeless when it comes to taking hints."_

" _What's that supposed to mean?" James asked, puffing out his chest._

" _Evans is never going to go for you, Potter. You are exactly the opposite of what she wants." He leered. "Trust me."_

 _James paled but didn't back down. "Not like you'd know, Snape. She hasn't talked to you in ages. We both know you burned that bridge ages ago, so don't act like you know her anymore. She's far too good for the likes of you."_

 _Snape was shaking with fury. "At least I actually care about her. I've apologized," he grit out from between clenched teeth. "A real man would respect the first of the million times she told you she wasn't interested."_

" _She's worth fighting for! I know that, so I never stop trying. I'm one hundred percent a real man!"_

 _His nose grew. Again._

 _He slumped forward, defeated, and Snape laughed cruelly. "Guess we both know that's not true then?" he asked in parting, turning to head into the Potions classroom._

 _James allowed his tired, wooden body to slide down the wall and slump onto the floor, realizing at the last second that Lily had been standing behind him. He groaned. "How much of that did you hear, Evans?"_

 _She shook her head, looking confused. "Enough."_

* * *

 _James sat at one end of the plush couch in the common room he and Lily shared as Head Boy and Head Girl. He wasn't sure when she would be coming back for their supposed "meeting," so he opted on the side of caution and came to wait for her as soon as he was finished with his classes for the day._

 _He should have been at Quidditch practice with Sirius and the others, but Sirius had made a joke about how he might shatter if a bludger hit him just right, and he had quickly decided that it would be better for him to keep his feet firmly on the ground._

 _The box that held Lily's earrings was poking out from beneath his thigh, and he ran a nervous finger over the edge._

" _What was I thinking, getting her these?" he asked himself aloud. "She's going to hate them, just because they're from me, and they're absolutely perfect. I'm hopeless."_

 _Lily chose that exact moment to enter the room from the hallway portrait entrance, and she laughed and said, "Only now figuring that out, are you?"_

 _James scowled and shoved the earrings farther beneath his leg._ See if she gets any pretty, shiny things tonight, _he thought vindictively._ Heaven knows she doesn't deserve them if she's teasing me after the day I've had.

 _But instead of looking like she was laughing at him, Lily was smiling softly with something new in her eyes._

 _James felt his heart skip approximately three beats before it slammed back into action, double time._

 _He'd never seen that particular look in Lily's eyes before. It was gentle and warm and absolutely enchanting._

 _Lily joined him on the couch, sitting on the opposite side but turning to face him, legs curled up beneath her._

" _This is a bit of an interrogation, Potter."_

" _A...a what?"_

" _You heard me. An interrogation. For the first time in my life, I am going to find out what's truly going on beneath that unruly mop of yours."_

" _Okay," he breathed, not sure whether this was a good thing or a really bad one._

" _Let's start with what happened earlier. Why did your nose grow when you said you were one hundred percent a real man?"_

 _The instinct to protect Remus' secret - and the collective Marauder secret of having various animal alter-egos - kicked in faster than James could counter it. "No idea."_

 _His nose was now beyond ridiculous, jutting even farther forward after his last statement._

 _Lily's eyes were shrewd. "Tell me the truth."_

 _James realised that his heart was now pounding out of fear instead of pleasant anticipation. What could he honestly say? Was the chance of winning her heart - finally, after six and a half_ years _of pining - worth revealing this secret?_

 _His instincts might have been biased, but they screamed_ YES. _The Sirius voice in his head said,_ You're so whipped. Tosser.

 _James went with the instincts. They were usually more reliable than his Sirius-conscience. "I am not entirely human."_

 _Lily's posture straightened. "Come again?"_

 _James sighed and ran a hand down his face. "That is to say, I'm an Animagus."_

 _The redhead looked as if that was the absolute last thing she had expected him to say. Her face was blank with a look of complete shock._

 _The clock on the mantel quietly ticked away a few moments before she whispered, "Show me."_

 _He stood up, thinking,_ Here goes nothing, _and walked behind the couch toward the open area of the Head common room. He transformed before he could think better of it, and Lily stared in awe at the stag that stood where the Head Boy had been only seconds before._

 _James didn't dare move, but Lily eventually stood slowly and made her way toward him. She reached out a gentle hand to brush down his muscled neck. "You're beautiful," she cooed. Prongs preened under her attention, nuzzling her upraised hand with his nose when she didn't seem to know where else to pet him._

 _She met his eyes, realising that they were hazel, just as they were in his human form. Her voice maintained its reverent quality as if she were afraid to break the spell. "Why didn't you tell me?"_

 _He morphed back into the boy she knew so well but maybe didn't know at all, and her hand shifted to his cheek. "Would you have believed me? James Potter, the boy who lives to annoy and attempt to impress you?"_

 _She shook her head, and he nodded. His nose was still big enough to deserve its own mailing code, but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes stayed riveted on his own. Her words were quiet as a breath. "Who are you?"_

 _James didn't know what to say._

 _His Remus-conscience finally decided to give his two bits._ The truth.

 _Nodding to no one in particular, James said, "Just a boy, hopelessly in love with a girl."_

 _His nose shrank. That was odd. Welcome, of course, but odd._

 _Lily's breath caught in her chest. "You...you love me? That's not just something you say? Some elaborate joke made up to make your friends laugh at my expense?"_

 _James shook his head, not sure how he'd managed to so thoroughly mess this up. "Lily Evans, I love you. More than a teenage boy should ever be allowed to love a girl." He took a chance and twined his fingers through hers, holding both her hands like a lifeline between them. "I know I've gone about this all the wrong way, but - in my defence - I haven't had many chances to practice. I've been a bit too preoccupied with a certain redhead to have time to woo anyone else."_

 _Suddenly, a glint of something gold caught his eye from over the back of the couch, and he snatched the jewellery box from the seat and offered it up on one flat hand, keeping her hand tight inside his other one._

" _Lily Evans?"_

 _She looked a little wary but mostly amused. "Yes, Potter?"_

" _James. You can call me James. It's only something I've dreamed of for my entire Hogwarts career." She laughed softly, even as he mumbled, "Forget I said that. I really care about you. I always have. Can we start over? Maybe pretend I'm not the total arse that I often am and give me a second chance to do this right? I don't think these feelings are going away anytime soon, and it would be really nice if you didn't hate me for the rest of my life -"_

 _His rambling was halted by the feather-light touch of Lily's lips on his own._

 _He didn't even react at first, he was so surprised. She didn't deepen the kiss, only pulling away to say, "Yes. I'll even give you a chance to redeem yourself and give me a proper first kiss."_

 _His heart was in his throat, his brain was racing, and his hands were starting to sweat._ What is wrong with me? _he thought, panicked._

 _His Peter-conscience quietly said,_ My mom told me once that that's how it feels when you're in love.

" _James." He was jolted from his thoughts by Lily's voice. She sounded nervous. "Was it that bad? I mean, I don't have much experience either, but -"_

 _This time he cut her off, kissing her like he'd never meant anything more in his life. His lips were slightly chapped, but hers were impossibly smooth and infinitely soft. He dropped her hand to pull her flush against him, sliding one hand into her hair, which was even softer than he'd imagined, and letting the other rest at her waist._

 _She let her tongue come out to tease his lower lip and he groaned but broke away, leaning his forehead down onto hers. His voice sounded ragged when he whispered, "Lily Evans, you're going to be the death of me."_

 _She grinned up at him wickedly, pulling down on his neck to get his lips within reach again. "But what a way to go, right?"_

 _He lost himself to the tangle of lips and teeth and tongues for a moment, chuckling at the whine of disappointment that came from Lily's mouth as he pulled away once more. "You almost forgot your present."_

 _Lily raised her eyebrows. "Is it going to be better than that snogging? Because that was pretty fantastic."_

 _James laughed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that with Lily tangled up around him. Merlin, the girl made him happy. He wasn't sure what the right answer was to that question, and he wanted to make sure his nose kept shrinking so that it stayed snogging friendly. Finally, he found words that seemed simple but safe. "I think you'll like them."_

 _One side of her mouth quirked up, and she let go of James long enough to take the gift. He held his breath as he cracked the small jewellery box open. She gasped, glancing up at James with eyes filled with awe. "James, these are beautiful."_

 _He flushed but mumbled, "Eyes as beautiful as yours deserve jewels to match."_

" _Put them on for me?"_

 _His hands shook, but he did as she requested, pulling her curtain of hair aside and tucking it behind her shoulder before fastening the earrings in place, admiring the way the diamond sparkled against her skin and the teardrop emerald beneath it glinted in the firelight. On a whim, he conjured a mirror and held it up for her to inspect her reflection._

 _Her eyes bored into his, and she whispered, "They're perfect." The emotion in her gaze made him feel weak and invincible and blissfully happy._

 _She vanished the mirror and pulled him close to her once more. "So. Your curse seems to have lifted," she pointed out, bopping his nose lightly. She was right. He was flesh and bone once more. "But will you tell me what really happened?" He had the decency to look embarrassed, but she continued, "I have deduced that it was neither a prank gone wrong nor a stray hex from your best friend."_

 _He really didn't want to admit it to Lily, but the truth had gotten him this far, so he pushed forward. "I bought it from a back alley witch while I was Christmas shopping. She overheard me talking to myself...about you...and she promised that it would help you see me for who I really am."_

 _Lily's eyebrows were nearly to her hairline by the time James finished his explanation, and he couldn't decide whether her look of shock boded well for him or not. But an explosive giggle took over the girl's frame, and he cracked a smile. "Think it's funny, do you?"_

" _Don't you? You were so angry about it, but it did exactly what she said!" She was nearly hysterical and clutched onto his shoulders to keep from falling over. She finally got herself under control when she said, "It's going to be a great story to tell someday."_

 _He chuckled and claimed her lips once more, murmuring, "If you say so."_

* * *

Sirius gripped his drink a little tighter as he finished telling the story. "Prongs told us every detail the next morning before breakfast. I'd never seen him so happy in all my life. Lily wore those earrings most days after that, including at their wedding. James offered to buy her something new and sparkly to celebrate their big day, but she wouldn't hear of it. She always just said, 'Why mess with perfection?' and gave him a cheeky wink. I've never seen two people so smitten with each other. James said it was worth every moment of pining once she finally returned his feelings."

Harry huffed a laugh, stealthily wiping the tears from his eyes. "Is it silly to wish I could have seen them?"

Sirius bounded from his seat, exclaiming, "I bet they're still in your vault!" He sat down slowly, realising the time. "We can go get them before you go back to school tomorrow if you like."

Harry considered his godfather's offer but slowly shook his head. "Maybe we can go see them, but I'd rather keep them somewhere safe."

Sirius nodded his understanding. "Smart lad. You got that from your mum. And maybe a bit from your dad." He winked.

Harry's laugh got lost in a yawn as the lateness of the hour caught up with him.

"Better get up to bed, pup. Busy day ahead of you tomorrow." He ruffled the boy's hair, grinning fondly.

"I know. Thanks for the story, Sirius."

"My pleasure."

* * *

The morning of Harry and Ginny's wedding dawned cold and bright. Their mutual love of the holiday season had inspired a wedding date just a few days before Christmas. They lay together, a tangle of limbs and cosy flannel pyjamas, as the sun came up.

"I should probably get back to the Burrow before they notice I'm gone."

Harry groaned. "Five more minutes, Gin."

She laughed. "Is it worth having Mum ruin your wedding day to get a few extra minutes of cuddling?" He nodded against the curve of her throat, and she bit back a grin. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Suddenly he pulled his head up and smiled down at her, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Slightly less than you're about to. I hope." With that, he sprang from the bed and rushed over to his sock drawer. He dug around until he found what he was looking for. "You know how Hermione always says 'don't judge a book by its cover'? I think that applies here."

Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she reached for the worn jewellery box all the same. She slowly opened the lid, and her mouth formed an "O" of surprise until she brought up a hand to cover it.

"Harry."

He grinned down at her. "Gin?"

"Are these _the_ earrings? The one your dad got your mum for Christmas the year they finally got together?"

He nodded, and they just stared into each other's eyes for a minute. They both had tears threatening to spill down their cheeks, but it was mostly a good kind of sadness. One where they were grateful for everyone who had lived and died to get them to that very moment and the events of the day ahead of them.

"I wasn't sure if you'd like them, but I thought maybe we could carry on the Potter family tradition. If you want to wear them, that is."

Ginny pulled him back into bed, holding him tight enough that she forgot she was supposed to be rushing back to her childhood home and avoiding a famous Molly Weasley lecture.

"They're perfect."


	7. A Seat on the Train (Friendship APSM)

A Seat on the Train

Just a little drabble in honor of the epilogue on today since it's 1 September 2017!

Friendship: Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy

Rating: K+

* * *

Albus Potter didn't know where to sit.

He had the option of joining James and his friends in the cabin they'd claimed as their own, but the thought of having to sit through hours of Quidditch game recaps sounded about as enjoyable as having his wand shoved into his eye.

He sighed. Rose looked happy enough in the next cabin down, perched on the edge of a seat between two of the older Weasley cousins. They were talking about beauty charms, which Albus knew Rose had no interest in, but the redhead with the wild curls just looked so happy to be _finally_ going to Hogwarts that she didn't mind the girl talk. Albus smiled at her obvious excitement and continued down the train.

His father had reminded him that it would be just fine if he were sorted into Slytherin - one of the men whose name he bore had come from the infamous house, and he was lauded as one of the greatest heroes of the war.

Pity he'd never lived to see the fruits of his labours.

Though, if everything he'd ever heard Uncle Ron say about the man was true, he probably would have just sneered and been disappointed, regardless.

Most of the other cars were full, so he kept on walking, feeling more and more anxious that he'd have to go back to James' compartment and sit with a crowd of rowdy Gryffindors for the entirety of the journey.

When he finally came to the last cabin, the door was left open. He didn't hear any talking and thought for a moment that he may be lucky enough that he'd stumbled onto the last empty compartment - until he realised that there was a boy sitting on one of the worn, plush benches. He was leaning against the far wall, feet drawn up onto the bench so he could rest his book on his bent legs. His hair was the palest blond, and it almost hurt to look at with the sun shining directly on the boy's head through the window.

Albus had caught Rose in this very same position in the window seat at the Granger-Weasley home more times than he could count, and the familiarity of the studious pose made him smile and huff a small laugh.

The boy looked up, startled. Albus' little grin was still in place, so he rolled with it. "Hello, I'm Albus Potter. Mind if I sit?"

The blond boy's eyes - blue and pale as the rest of him - grew wide, and he said, "Erm...if you want to."

Albus thought sitting in silence with this boy had to be better than any of the other options available elsewhere on the train, so he simply nodded and took a seat, pulling out his own book to read.

He hadn't realised that the other boy's attention was still on him and was startled when he said, "I'm Scorpius, by the way. Scorpius Malfoy."

Albus wanted to laugh but felt it would be hypocritical, given his own rather unusual names. It was all well and good to be named after two war heroes, but ' _Albus Severus'_? He made up for the unfairness of it all by shortening it to 'Al.' It suited him.

He recovered from the start he'd had at the unexpected interruption and reached between the seats to offer his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Scorpius stared at his hand for a moment, seeming unsure whether Albus intended to shake his hand or slap him, but he eventually gave in and shook. "Likewise."

Albus sat down to return to his book but was again interrupted. "Is it true - that your dad saved my dad's life in the war?"

That caught Al's attention. His head whipped around and he stared at Scorpius incredulously.

He looked every bit the proper pureblood aristocrat then he went and said something like _that._

Albus cleared his throat. "Erm...I think so? My dad doesn't like to talk about the war much, but I've heard him and my aunts and uncles talk about it in the other room once in awhile."

Scorpius nodded. "My dad doesn't talk about it much, either, but my mum has told me a few stories."

They both went back to their books for a while before Albus broke the silence. "Do you know which house you want to be in?"

Scorpius looked incredulous. "Slytherin, of course. Every Malfoy in recorded history has been sorted into Slytherin."

Al sighed. "My family has all been in Gryffindor so far, but I don't think I'm brave enough to fit in there."

Scorpius raised an aristocratic eyebrow. "There's more to life than bravery, you know."

"That's true. My brother keeps saying I'll be sorted into Slytherin, and I think he might be right."

Scorpius smiled. "At least we'd both know someone in our house if you did."

Nodding, Albus agreed. "It would be nice to start the year off with a friend."

And it was.


	8. The Empty Frame (SSHG)

The Empty Frame

Based on a W&B aesthetic prompt by arcticcat621. Thank you for the inspiration!

Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger

Rating: T

* * *

Headmaster Snape's portrait had never been particularly kind to Hermione, but lately, it was acting decidedly odd. The gaze of the deceased Potions Master, black as ravens' wings, tracked her movements without any hint of decorum as he urged her, as he always did, to travel back in time.

"It's your destiny," he insisted, his voice as beautiful to listen to as his words were cutting.

"There are at least twenty reasons why that is not possible, not to mention a horrible idea, and I'm not sure why you keep trying to convince me otherwise, Professor," she shot back, any venom her tone might have carried lost to the first dozen times they'd had this conversation, months before.

 _The portrait of Professor Snape had, much to portrait Professor Dumbledore's amusement, put in a request to be moved to the Department of Mysteries to aid in research there. He hadn't fooled his predecessor one bit, and the older man simply joined Severus in his portrait, patting him on the shoulder in affection._

" _She'll be there soon, won't she?" he had asked, Severus cursing the ridiculous twinkle in his eye._

" _We both know you already know the answer to that question." the Slytherin had drawled, well past the point of annoyance with the older man._

Drawing his mind back to the present, Snape continued his efforts to convince the stubborn Gryffindor, who was looking more like the woman from his memories with each passing day. She was still shaking her head adamantly, and he thought he caught the stomp of a foot beneath her Unspeakable robes.

"We both know all the _very good_ reasons for why I can't go back. The mess Eloise Mintumble made for herself, not to mention Professor Croaker's Law, _proves_ that travelling any further back than a few hours can change the course of time, if not prove deadly for the time traveller and possibly even entire family lines, as they cease to exist in the instant that past events dictate they will no longer be born. If those reasons aren't good enough for you, then the fact that all my friends are here should be." Her ridiculous curls sparked, and he tried not to think too fondly of the furious young woman before him.

After all, she wasn't _his_ yet.

The pain of knowing he'd lived and lost, and that she would do the same, added an extra dose of acid to his already scathing tone. "I wonder which will get you killed faster—your loyalty or your stubbornness?"

She rolled her eyes, accustomed as she was to his moods after interacting with her so much over the past five years as she worked in the Department of Mysteries. "Keeping the rules does not have to be a bad thing, Professor. I know that's not always the case with potions, as you proved in your copy of _Moste Potente Potions._ But experimenting with time is another matter entirely. I cannot, in good conscience, take that step, no matter how motivated you may be to see the results of this particular experiment." The magic coursing along her hair was starting to cause it to billow out, so she huffed and bound it back into a plait, fastening it with a conjured hair tie.

Severus had seen her do that so many times—in the recent and distant past—that it made the reality of what he needed to do all the more urgent. Gritting his painted teeth, he managed to growl, "What if I told you that you'd already done it?"

She'd turned to face away from him slightly as she'd pulled her hair back, but his question sent her whirling around again to face him. "What did you say?"

He scoffed. "We both know you heard me, Granger. No need to pretend with me."

The blush of her righteous indignation was gone from her cheeks, replaced with a nervous pallor. "H-how can you know that?" she asked, seemingly almost at a loss for words.

It was the first time he'd ever seen her that way, save in the throes of passion and peace of slumber, and he'd pat himself on the back if he wasn't absolutely certain it would brass the young witch off even more.

Rolling his eyes at her stunned face, he said, "I knew you, in the past. I am absolutely certain you travel back in time, and if my calculations are correct, soon."

"Then why—?" she hesitated, gesturing to the empty frame hanging opposite Severus' portrait.

He waited, unable to find the words with so much tension between them and so much riding on this moment.

He could not afford to mess this up.

Chocolate eyes got impossibly wider, turning to meet his gaze with a look of awe mixed with panic. "You don't mean—I—that's impossible!" she stuttered, raking a hand into her hair and pulling a few curls free by mistake. She paced furiously, mumbling incoherently to herself.

"I have proof." The gravity of his voice caused her to stop short, hand over her mouth as she observed him—as if she could use Legilimency on a painting—and on the greatest Occlumens of all time, at that.

He scoffed internally at the thought but kept his musings to himself.

Her brilliant mind only needed a moment to catch up, and he could nearly see the cogs whirring at breakneck speed in her head. "Show me."

He gave her instructions on where to find the diaries, all in Headmistress McGonagall's safekeeping, locked away behind wards only Severus knew the counterspell for. The hour it took her to obtain the little stack of leather-bound books went slower than any other in Severus' relatively short lifetime, and he tried not to get his hopes up. He didn't know for certain when his love left this time to save him from himself so soon after Lily died. He only knew that this version of Hermione Granger was exactly how he remembered meeting the woman who later became his wife. Though her friends meant a lot to her, they'd moved on with their lives. Hermione only had her research. Both Doctors Granger had died in the war, a car crash on the way to the airport snatching them from the escape to safety that their daughter had so carefully crafted. She'd never married; her work kept her far too busy to date anyone seriously—Severus made sure of that.

She read the journals at a furious pace, and Severus almost worried that she'd rip the pages in her haste. He occupied himself with thoughts of the memories contained in the scrawl of ink on parchment there, and he felt the potential energy of the moment swirling around the room in an invisible whirlwind of magic. Time stopped and raced forward, all at once, as he watched the face of the woman he'd loved so dearly. The woman he'd lost before their life together had even really had a chance to begin. She'd been the only good thing in a sea of so much darkness, and his heart still ached at the thought of the way he'd lost her to the birth of their son so soon before her younger self had started at Hogwarts.

He knew he'd been awful to the little know-it-all that had been his past-future (it all got a bit confusing) wife. But now here she was, all soft curves and amber eyes and hair just _made_ for twirling around his long, slender fingers. He rejoiced for his younger self, knowing so much happiness lay ahead, long before the loss he'd suffer, and that there was still a possibility of a happy ending.

It took hours for her to finish the journals, reading long into the night by candlelight. Snape normally would have dozed in his chair by this point in the night, but he was too tightly wound from the scene transpiring before him to contemplate even a moment's rest. When she finally closed the last journal, gently, reverently, as if to treat the words kindly now that she knew they were her own, she simply said, "I'll go."

The jump back through the years was really rather simple after that. There were still various Time-Turners in the Department of Mysteries, including the one she, herself, had used in third year.

How painful a reminder that had been of his wife and the way she'd literally fallen through time to be with him.

She left the room, he thought for good, and surprised him when she returned.

"Thank you." The words were simple but heartfelt, a testament to the way he'd given her purpose, clarity, a mission.

The woman was absolutely nutty when it came to her need to have a project, but he could hardly fault her for it. He'd been her favourite one, as she was so fond of reminding him.

And then she was gone, a halo of golden light springing up around her to transport her back through the years.

The silence of her absence was deafening. Severus closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight a world without her in it for another moment.

"Fancy seeing you here."

His eyes flew open, instantly boring into the canvas of the previously empty frame before him.

There she was. All curls and smiles and curves, just like he remembered. A few tiny laugh lines aged the corners of her eyes and mouth, but he loved her all the more for them. A baby boy slept in her arms, and Severus wondered how she'd already managed to bring their son from the frame he'd previously called home in Snape's quarters at Hogwarts. The sight of her, happy and alive, as much as she could be called that, brought tears to his eyes, and he rushed through the frame of his portrait into hers, nearly toppling her with the force of his hug.

"I missed you," she whispered, tears streaming down her face to match his own.

"Don't leave me again," he begged, unable to hide the raw desperation in his tone.

"I'm not going anywhere."


	9. Sometimes Fate Decides (GWHG)

Sometimes Fate Decides

This is a birthday gift fic for Mahawna, the best beta a girl could ask for!

Pairing: Hermione Granger/George Weasley

Rating: T

* * *

The only thing the Weasley twins ever truly fought over was a girl.

Not just any girl, oh no. She was Hermione Jean Granger, brightest witch of her age, best friend of the Boy Who Lived, and unrequited love interest of their little brother, who would forever be 'ickle Ronniekins' in their eyes.

The arguments started out in good fun, usually after they'd gotten her so riled up with their mischief-making that sparks shot from the tips of her hair in all her righteous, prefect-ly indignation. There was just something about the little witch when she got angry. The flush to her cheeks, the way she bit her lip, the hand delved into her riotous chestnut curls…It was enough to drive any bloke barmy.

But the twins were not just any blokes. They were two very similar young men with appallingly similar taste in birds. The arguments turned from teasing over which of them Granger hated more (a good thing in the twisted mind of a teenage boy) to which of them should be allowed to have a go at her. The first few Hogsmeade trips of their final year at school were painful, stilted affairs where they both agreed to go with a different girl or alone to save their relationship, for no girl could be worth ruining what they had, right?

But then the DA started up, and they were goners. There was something about watching a powerful witch who knew what she was doing with a wand that made a bloke weak in the knees.

They may or may not have both thought of her when they managed to each cast their first corporeal Patronus.

Umbridge managed to squeeze every drop of fun from what was supposed to be their amazing last year at Hogwarts. Instead of completing their N.E.W.T.s, as they'd planned to do to appease their mother, they started drawing up plans to go out with a bang.

When the final fireworks fizzled out in the Great Hall, Hermione stood stock still in the midst of the surrounding chaos, grasping two slips of parchment that a particularly tiny firework had released onto her desk while everyone else was distracted by the fantastic display of pyrotechnics ablaze in the air above them.

The twins were gone, well on their way to Ottery St Catchpole or Diagon Alley or wherever they were headed after their dramatic exit, leaving only two tiny reminders - and a whole lot of destruction - that they'd been there mere moments before.

One read:

 _Go out with me? -George_

The other said:

 _I'm much better looking, you know. Go out with me instead? -Fred_

As if the notes had turned her to stone, her mouth was frozen in a gasp, hands raised close enough that she could read the tiny, not-quite-identical scrawl. She'd never, in a million years, suspected that the infamous pranksters could have any sort of feelings for her - aside from perhaps annoyance at her constant foiling of their plans.

Ron came over to see what had Hermione distracted from the celebration everyone else was enjoying, grin crinkling his eyes and showing off his teeth. She'd always been fond of his looks, which she now realised with a jolt were so like his brothers', just a little younger and lankier and a tad less mischievous.

Shaking the whole ordeal off as more of Fred and George's nonsense, she pocketed the notes and returned Ron's smile.

"I know you don't always like Fred and George's stuff, but you've got to admit... _that_ was bloody brilliant," Ron said, admiration for his brothers shining in his sky-blue eyes.

Nodding woodenly, still feeling adrift in this world where she wasn't quite sure of anything anymore, Hermione could only manage, "Can't argue with you on that one."

XxxX

The Horcrux hunt had taken its toll on Harry and his friends. Hermione, in particular, had been hurt by the way Ron had left the two of them when the burden of the locket had weighed too heavy on his soul.

She and Harry danced and cuddled and wished for better days beyond the endless hunger and loneliness they shared, just the two of them on an impossible journey to save the world.

But they weren't completely alone.

Ginny and Neville were doing what they could at Hogwarts. Hermione hoped they were safe, glancing occasionally at the Marauders' Map when Harry wasn't using it for his nightly routine of Ginny-watching.

She thought it was a bit creepy, really, but who was she to judge?

Her feelings were tangled up between two boys, utterly impossible and far away and not at all hers. She still had the notes they'd left her in fifth year, tucked away in her copy of Hogwarts a History. Occasionally, when the heaviness of all they were meant to do weighed too heavy on her narrow shoulders, she pulled them out and allowed herself a small smile as she thought of one day taking them up on their offer.

Who knew if they even still felt that way? It was nice to dream about, though.

On the nights that the twins took their turn on Potterwatch, Hermione was surprised by how much better she felt to know they were alright. Guilt overwhelmed her when she realised that all the people who were important to her were still alive and well, assuming Ron was still okay wherever he'd run off to.

The foreboding fog of the war always seeped into those thoughts, and she couldn't shake the fear that she would lose someone before the end had come.

XxxX

In the moments before his twin was torn from the world, George fought back to back with his brother, egging on Death Eaters and throwing shop products left and right to cause distractions and hopefully allow them both to make it out alive.

When Dolohov had come around the corner, shouting a curse in Russian, George's stomach sunk low in his gut, and he threw out his arm, sending up the strongest shield he could manage. The curse continued past him, hitting the wall above the twins' heads. Fred spun around at the sound, but his reflexes weren't fast enough to put up a shield before the wall fell on top of him. George watched in horror as the rubble streamed off his own shield, the protection stopping just a few feet short of Fred's body. The older twin crumpled to the floor, not even making a sound as he fell.

George released his shield as soon as the avalanche of stones slowed, scrambling forward on shaking legs to find his twin amidst the rubble. It took him a long moment of hurling stones away to remember that he was a wizard. He whipped his wand back out so quickly that he nearly broke it. Levitating the stones off in piles, he was oblivious to the tears streaming down his face. His chest ached with a severity that made him feel like he was similarly trapped in stone, and the feeling did not improve as the weight on his brother's body lessened.

Panting with the force of his efforts to unearth his twin, he knelt beside Fred and cupped his face between both hands.

"Forge! Oh, Merlin, please be okay! You can't leave me here alone." George had never heard his own voice sound so broken, and the despair there, combined with the total stillness of Fred's body, made the outcome suddenly all too real.

But George didn't have time to mourn. Another curse flew past them, narrowly missing his shoulder, and George turned to face his opponents, freshly fuelled with the loss of the one person in the world he couldn't bear to live without. The pain was quickly consumed by fury as George hurled hexes and curses at his opponents, half blind from the tears that fell unchecked.

He didn't much care if he lived through this war anymore, but he sure as hell would avenge his brother.

XxxX

The aftermath of the battle was surreal. Hermione eyed the Weasleys warily, wanting to offer some comfort but doubting she would be welcome after the awkward victory kiss she'd shared with Ron and the death of someone she'd never thought to give the time of day to until it was too late.

And there sat George, one of the only lights on the dark nights in the Forest of Dean, his face crumpled in agony as he looked at his brother's fallen form.

It would be selfish to expect any of them to pay her any attention at all, so she let Harry go to them, hugging Ginny tight as they all mourned together.

Hermione put herself to work, helping pass out potions and perform standard healing charms as directed by Madam Pomfrey.

She didn't see the watery, blue gaze that watched her back as she worked or sense the thoughts George had that she might be worth sticking around for.

XxxX

That night, everyone went home to the Burrow. Even Percy, Bill, and Charlie, who hadn't called the ramshackle house 'home' in months, wordlessly agreed that they would not leave their family in this time of need.

All of George's brothers, and even Ginny, offered to sleep in George's room with him. When that offer caused a look of panic in his eyes, Bill assured him that they could sleep on the floor. No one needed to touch a single thing of Fred's. The memories could remain, exactly as the deceased twin had left them.

George adamantly refused, saying he just wanted to sleep, not endure his family's endless fussing. He took the longest, hottest shower he could manage, scrubbing the dirt and blood from his body until every inch of skin burned but was finally clean. He wrapped a towel firmly about his waist, left the steamy bathroom behind, and finally opened the door to their room. His swollen eyes were stuck at half mast, so he blindly walked on autopilot to the dresser, pulling out clothes and getting dressed.

When he turned to crawl under the covers, a strange glow emanated from the other bed. He'd never been so exhausted, and he was probably still in shock, so he figured it was a hallucination. Wishing his overwrought brain would just shut up and sleep, he trudged over to Fred's bed and whipped back the covers.

"Oi! Took you long enough!"

George's heart stopped. Then it played an entire Quidditch match in the space of an instant. Then it stopped again, an anvil in his chest. "F-Fred?"

For there he was, in all his ghostly glory, laying in his bed as if he'd never left with a grin the size of Jupiter on his face. "You must be getting slow in your old age, Gred! Luckily, I had the good sense to pass on before I, too, became senile." The familiar glint of mischief shone in his eye as he sprang out of bed.

Tears were flooding George's vision once more, and he dug his nails into his palms to stop himself from hugging the apparition - or hallucination - of his twin. Either way, he wouldn't be able to give him a proper hug, and not being able to do so was a sight better than attempting and having his arms fly through the gossamer fog that made up his brother.

"No, none of that now! No crying for old Fred. I've come to give you a message. Now sit down like a good boy and we'll talk."

That got a tiny smile out of George. Fred knew he was a sucker for a good impersonation of their mother. Some things never changed.

"Why are you still here? I would have thought you'd have gone on, like the others." His heart felt heavy again at the reminder of everyone they'd lost that day, but he tried to keep his spirit light enough to listen.

"It's about our girl, Georgie! Don't tell me you've forgotten our deal? We both ask, wait for her answer -"

"-And may the best man win," George finished, a wry grin on his face from the memory of their agreement the night before they'd left Hogwarts. "She never said a word, Fred. What makes you think she's even still interested?"

Fred tapped a pale finger to his chest, shrugging. "Just a feeling. Nice night out, tonight."

Confused by the change in topic that had been abrupt even by Fred's standards, George went over to the window.

Outside, in the garden, stood a lone figure. With wild bushy curls billowing out around her at every turn, she paced. The twin's room was too high up to hear her, but George suspected she was muttering to herself. He turned back to spare a glance at his twin, worrying at every moment that it might be his last. "What's she found down there?"

Fred walked over, apparently not returning George's qualms about touching, swinging an arm around George's shoulders. There was no weight there, but the cool contact along his shoulders and back was comforting, nonetheless. He allowed himself to relax a bit as Fred answered, "Being her usual barmy self, what else?"

The banter was coming quickly now. "But we like barmy, Fred."

"That we do, Georgie-boy!"

"Should I go talk to her?"

"Absolutely, but first you need my blessing." He waited until George faced him fully before placing his hands on both shoulders and donning a solemn look. "This is the witch of our dreams. I've lived out my days, successfully accomplishing my life goal to never take anything too seriously, and have found a band of mates over here that are going to make the wait until you decide to join me rather tolerable. The Marauders, George! But I'm getting off track…where was I? Ah, yes. Hermione. We've both fancied her for years now. Don't let me being gone take away your chance for happiness, George. You won't see me, but I'll always be here, watching over you."

George's breathing was laboured, the impending goodbye drawing ever nearer. "I'd rather have you."

"True as that may be now, the hurt will get easier. The years will go quickly, and then you can come wreak havoc with Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and me. Whaddya say, George? Take care of our girl? Love her? Make a proper family? Maybe name a little bub with crazy red curls Fred?"

That did George in, and he sobbed, shoulders heaving with his cries. He shook his head yes and no at the same time, so confused and broken and hopeful all at once. "I don't know how to be the lonely half of a whole, Fred."

Fred looked like he would have cried right along with him if he'd still been capable of tears, but his answer was firm. "You'll never be alone." Lighting up with the look that meant he had an absolutely brilliant idea, he asked, "Think you have one last prank left in you?"

George huffed a watery sound of indignation. "I always do, and you know it, you git." The laugh he attempted to follow up his statement was weak, but it still made them both feel a little better.

"You go first. Let's have a bit of fun with a Granger before the two of you ride off into the sunset, eh?"

George went down the stairs first, at Fred's prompting. He had always been the one to initiate the jokes in life, and that hadn't changed after his death.

By the time George made his way outside, Hermione was perched on the bench in the garden, hands gripping the seat on either side of her until her knuckles turned white. He cleared his throat as he stepped out onto the porch, hoping to alert her to his presence without startling her.

It didn't work.

Jumping, she spun around, wand brandished and ready to fight. George quickly raised his hands in the sign of forfeit, hoping it wasn't too dark for her to see who it was with only the light of the moon shining down on them.

Lowering her wand, she gasped, "George! You nearly gave me a heart attack. Are you alright?"

He smiled, the most confusing mix of happiness, affection, and an unbearable amount of impending pain blending in his chest to choke him. It took him a moment to manage speech. "I'm better than I was earlier. What are you doing out here?" he waved a hand around the garden, causing her to blush.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I wanted to help earlier but didn't know what to say. Then I was distracted when everyone left, and just… I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry for your loss."

"And what loss would that be, Granger?" Fred asked with his trademark lopsided grin upon his pale face. Ever one to make a dramatic entrance, he'd skipped the door and walked straight through the wall, probably giving Hermione the heart attack that had threatened a few moments earlier if the look of shock on her face was anything to go by. She put a shaky hand to her mouth, and George followed the urge to walk over and hold her other hand, Fred standing across from both of them. George pulled Hermione back down onto the bench, never letting her hand escape his own.

"Look, Granger, it's time we had a talk," Fred continued. "My brother and I have fancied you for years now. We left the ball in your court, and you waited a beat too long to do anything about it." He paced back and forth in front of the bench as if giving a lecture to naughty students. "Now, as sad as you must be to have missed out on the chance to snog the more attractive of the Weasley twins," he paused at George's sound of indignation, "this at least makes the choice a bit easier for you. Georgie here is still a right fantastic bloke, and extremely fit. He has promised, upon threat of being haunted for life, that he will treat you right," of course George had done no such thing, but it was true enough, "and that you will name your first son Fred. Are those terms agreeable to you?"

Hermione started laughing, starting with quiet giggles that quickly turned to hysterical laughter. She wiped tears from her face with her free hand, squeezing George's fingers with the other. "I think I can do that. Isn't it a bit early to talk about children and things, though?"

"It's never too early to say yes to a good thing," Fred reasoned.

George had honestly never realised his brother could be such a good wingman. He might have expected this behaviour from Bill or Charlie, but Fred had more or less just proposed to the witch for him!

Even more unbelievable, George was pretty sure she'd just said yes.

They talked long into the night, neither Hermione nor George having the heart to tell Fred that he was gradually fading away. When he was nothing more than a gossamer glint of fog in the moonlight, he stopped his theatrics, a sad smile on his face. "It's about time for me to go, lovebirds." He turned to address Hermione. "Take good care of my brother, will you?"

Tears blurring her vision, Hermione nodded. "I promise."

XxxX

They never saw Fred again, though George could have sworn he heard his twin's laughter during his life's more amusing moments. The day George blew up the back half of the shop experimenting was the first such occasion, but many more followed. A particularly exuberant burst of laughter showered over them as George and Hermione exchanged their first kiss as husband and wife, followed by a whoop of victory that was nearly lost in the clapping and cheers of the crowd. Though there wasn't a dry eye in the room when Hermione gave birth to their first child, a little boy with a mop of curly red peach fuzz atop his head and his mother's chocolate eyes, George thought he heard an extra set of sniffles and a murmured, "Don't forget, I'm your favourite uncle, Mini-Fred."

The glimpses through the veil came less and less often as the years went on, but Fred was far from forgotten. An enchanted painting of him hung in the shop, and he kept customers on their toes with his jokes, convincing the occasional daring young witch or wizard to pull a prank on George when his back was turned.

George decided not to live in the flat after that, so he went home until he and Hermione got serious enough to want their own place. They bought a home down the street from Harry and Ginny in Godric's Hollow, a cosy cottage that housed countless happy memories over the years.

And when George passed on in his old age, a few months after Hermione, he was surrounded by friends and family. He didn't close his eyes until he spotted a familiar mop of shaggy red hair and his twin's easy grin. Hermione stood behind him, suddenly in her prime once more.

And just like in the storybooks, George closed his eyes and welcomed death as an old friend.

Or perhaps, more accurately, a brother.


	10. The Shortcomings of Felix Felicis (SSLE)

The Shortcomings of Felix Felicis

Based on a post by Lucefray27.

Pairing: Severus Snape/Lily Evans, James Potter/Lily Evans

Rating: T

Beta Love:Mahawna

* * *

Good days just didn't happen for Severus. Not anymore, anyway. It had been over a year since Lily, the one bright point in the sea of darkness that was his life, had shunned him for good.

Not that he hadn't deserved it. He had. He hated himself for loving her more than anything else in the world and never showing her, but it was too late to change past actions.

The present, though, _that_ was a different matter. Earlier that morning, Severus had brewed a flawless Draught of Living Death and earned a rather impressive reward from Slughorn, the old numpty. The Professor hadn't even noticed that Severus had changed more than half the steps, tweaking and perfecting the recipe as he went along, as he was wont to do. The old man had patted his impressively rotund belly in excitement, rambling on about how 'it was the most perfect Draught of Living Death he'd ever seen'.

The reward had been a single dose of _Felix Felicis_ , the luck potion.

The prize was all well and good, though Severus doubted he'd ever use it. It offended him slightly that Slughorn acted so surprised. As his own Head of House, you'd think the man would have more of a soft spot for the best student in his class. To the contrary, Severus worked harder than everyone, received impeccable marks, and yet somehow managed to garner only Slughorn's reluctant respect. He'd never even been invited to any of the Slug Club parties, not that he cared.

Well, he cared a _tiny bit_. But that was only because Lily always went, and he died a little inside at the thought of all the other seventh years - especially Potter, ogling Lily in dress robes or one of those Muggle dresses she fancied.

So many of his dreams - waking and sleeping - had been filled with her in said clothing, creamy neck and shoulders exposed, arms bare save for a silver bracelet he imagined buying her someday, long, auburn locks cascading down over all of it, smelling like flowers and summer and sun. Like memories of their childhood days spent together in the park.

He sighed, running a hand through his unfortunate hair. It was fine and on the oily side to begin with, but a morning filled with strenuous experimental brewing had it looking - and feeling - rather ghastly. He decided to grab a quick bite to eat then use the rest of his lunch hour to clean up.

After all, the class after lunch was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and it was one of the few classes that he still had with Lily.

Though he would never admit it, he wanted to look his best.

As he got out of the shower and dressed, he tucked the little phial of _Felix Felicis_ into the pocket of his robes on a whim and left for class.

It was the first day of Defence and they had a new teacher that year, as usual. Professor Lafferty was a retired Auror, missing a decent portion of his face. He held the class in the palm of his hand just by looking so bloody cool, and Severus rolled his eyes at his classmates. Bloody Gryffindors, the lot of them.

Keen on further impressing his already fawning class, Lafferty told them that the first week of their N.E.W.T. year would be spent focusing on conjuring a Patronus. His logic was that starting off with the toughest bit of magic would make the rest of the year seem easy, which made no bloody sense. It was far more likely that this was his attempt to win the class' affection on their first day together.

It was working, and the lesson hadn't even begun yet.

"Think of a happy memory," Lafferty lectured, pacing with a bit of a limp at the front of the room. "It should be the happiest thing you can remember. The more powerful the memory, and the stronger your focus on it, the easier it will be for you to cast a Patronus. Remember, this is a difficult bit of magic. It will likely take a few lessons to manage an incorporeal Patronus and possibly even longer to cast a corporeal form."

Severus sighed, feeling like they were already behind on their scheduled lesson plan before it even had a chance to begin. What was the point of a Patronus anyway? Sure, they impressed the N.E.W.T. examiners if you could wield such impressive magic, but it wasn't as if dementors were walking the streets of Hogsmeade.

Though it wasn't a duelling exercise, Lafferty paired them off. He obviously hadn't been privy to any of the relevant Hogwarts gossip in his short time at the school, for he made the mistake of pairing his students who hated each other the most, together.

"And you two, names? Potter and Snape, right. You'll work together. Alright, everyone," he said, clapping his hands together, "get to work! I'll come around and give pointers for improvement."

Feeling like he would rather dive into a cauldron full of his perfect Draught of Living Death than face a double class period of Defence paired up with the most unbearable tosser in school, Severus grit his teeth together and counted back from 50.

Hexing the Gryffindor on the first week of term, no matter how satisfying, was a bad idea.

Once he was fairly certain the first words out of his mouth wouldn't be an unforgivable curse, Severus spoke. "After you, Potter."

The sloppy-haired prat straightened his ridiculous glasses, hazel eyes overlarge behind the thick lenses as he focused on the task at hand. "Happy memory, let's see…" At least he seemed to be satisfied with leaving Severus alone for the time being. That was a nice change. "Maybe that one time in the broom closet? Or when we tricked Sirius into using a hair removal spell on himself." The head boy's ruddy cheeks glowed with mirth as he continued brainstorming, but Snape decided it would be best for both their sakes if he tuned James out.

Instead, he turned inward, rifling through memories and inspecting them as possible fuel for the spell. Sadly, most of his best moments all happened before school, when there had been no Gryffindor bullies or Slytherin blood purists to get between them. There was no first kiss, no happy holiday memories with his family at home, no pretty girl on his arm on a Hogsmeade weekend.

The options were as weak as they were limited, and Severus had very little hope that he would be able to come up with anything better anytime soon.

A jubilant noise startled Severus from his thoughts, and he looked up just in time to see Potter whirl his wand and shout, " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

Severus had somehow forgotten over the summer that Potter was good at _every-bloody-thing_. Though he couldn't stake a claim on Severus' position at the top of the class in Potions, he excelled in all his classes with what appeared to be a severe lack of effort. Still, Severus was shell-shocked when an enormous silver stag burst forth from the tip of James' wand and tripped over his own chair in an attempt to scramble out of its way before he remembered that it couldn't touch him. It was merely a conjuration of happiness mixed with mist and light.

Feeling the entirety of his skin from his chest to the tips of his ears and hairline heat with embarrassment, Severus picked himself up off the floor. It wasn't like him to be clumsy, but he just hadn't been expecting… _that_.

Actions fueled with righteous indignation, Severus tore his own wand from his holster and gathered all the magical power simmering beneath his skin as he cast the spell. " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

Unlike Potter's oversized beast, Severus' first Patronus was only a subtle wisp that flowed from the end of his wand for a moment before disappearing. The stag was still galloping around the room happily, the rest of the class clapping and cheering for Potter (the Gryffindors) or looking like they'd like to strangle him (the Slytherins). Lafferty allowed the commotion to go on for another moment, clearly pleased that one of his students had picked up the difficult spell so easily.

"Excellent work, Mr Potter! Perhaps you can help your partner now?" He turned away to watch the other groups work, having already seen Severus' initial attempt and dismissed him as a failure.

Severus feared his teeth might crack from the pressure he exerted as he ground them together, but he didn't much care. He just wanted to cast the stupid charm so he could show Potter that the world didn't rise and set over his arse.

But he didn't have what the magic required. Every bit of happiness in Severus' mind was tainted with the reality that both of his parents were dead. That he only had friends because he'd adopted Dark Magic at the cost of his dearest friendship. That Lily would likely never speak to him again unless it had something to do with class.

He spent the rest of the lesson getting more and more frustrated as his wispy Patronus shot forth again and again but never formed anything even slightly resembling an animal.

Looking around the room, he saw that most of the other students were faring similarly. Lupin had an enormous spectral wolf looping around him in circles, and the boy's scarred face didn't seem to be able to decide whether it wanted to smile or frown. The werewolf was left looking confused, and Severus was left feeling absolutely furious that a werewolf - one that had nearly killed him in fifth year, thanks to Regulus' worthless older brother - somehow managed to have happier memories than he did.

Severus was so furious, in fact, that he did something rather stupid. He excused himself to use the restroom and gulped down the dose of Felix Felicis, thinking it could at least help him not leave class completely mortified.

By the time he got back, Potter was lording his success in everyone's faces. He was gloating particularly pitifully in front of Lily and Sirius. The bloke had a habit of turning mean when he was excited, so Severus wasn't surprised when Potter teased, "You and Snape have matching Patronuses. How adorable. Maybe you should go to Sluggie's party together tonight.

Severus saw in Lily's eyes that Potter's brash behaviour, which had always annoyed her, had finally gone too far. She squared her shoulders and retorted, "I think I will," before marching over to talk to Severus.

"Save me from Potter's arrogance tonight?" she pleaded, a hint of the old friendship there in her eyes. They'd studied together a few times over the summer, and she'd given him a hug at his mother's funeral, but they were nowhere near the level of closeness they'd once been. She'd closed off on him after he'd called her a Mudblood, and he couldn't blame her.

He could only wish he could take it back, or at least make it up to her.

Reeling in shock, and feeling like this was all too good to be true, Severus nodded mutely. Lily summoned a weak smile and said, "Great. Pick me up at 7?" before returning to work on her Patronus with Black.

Luckily, class let out a few minutes later. Severus was feeling a rather ridiculous urge to go outside. It was too strong to ignore, so he put his books and things away and nearly ran out of the classroom.

The grounds were warm for an early autumn day. Severus decided to go down to the Black Lake and read under his favourite tree - the one that he and Lily had dubbed 'theirs' back in first year.

He spent the afternoon doing his favourite things: reading, brewing, practice duelling with Regulus, and sweet-talking Professor Sprout into parting with bits and pieces of her favourite plants for his potions work. All of his favourite foods were served at dinner, and no one else was in the dormitory when he went back to the dungeons to shower again and get ready for the party.

He'd never been on a date, and the concept felt foreign to him. He had a decent pair of dress robes that he'd bought with money he'd earned from tutoring younger Slytherins in Potions for the Christmas dance the year before. He hadn't danced a single song, so it was fitting that the beautiful black velvet creation with its simple lines and silver buttons was coming out for an encore.

He left a few minutes early to pick up Lily, not wanting their date to start off on the wrong foot.

He waited outside the portrait of the Fat Lady and tried not to fidget until the portrait finally swung open and Lily stepped out.

She looked even better than he'd ever imagined.

Her smile was shy, and he returned it. Her emerald cocktail dress hugged her curves in all the right places, the boat neckline and sleeveless cut managing to keep her completely modest while still showing off her shoulders. They were dusted with freckles, and Severus wanted to count - and kiss - every single one. Her hair was pulled back into a French plait on one side, cascading down in loose curls on the other.

Severus' fingers twitched with the urge to touch them. Touch her.

She shuffled around a bit awkwardly, scuffing the toe of her black t-strap heels on the flagstones. "Thanks for helping me get back at James," she murmured, sounding oddly apologetic.

He smiled wryly. "I will never not want to get back at Potter, rest assured." Offering her his arm, he said, "Shall we?"

Her smile brightened, and she tucked her small hand into the crook of his arm. It fairly burned against the fabric there, Severus was so aware of the touch and proximity.

This particular party was special, even by Slughorn's standards. Severus knew, from rumours, not experience, that the beginning of term bash was always an extravagant affair as Slughorn celebrated Hogwarts best, brightest, or - more accurately - most likely to bring him fame.

The decorations in the large dungeon classroom that had been turned into a party hotspot were simple but reeked of typical Slytherin opulence. The lights were low, the darkness broken only by fairy lights and candles, and Severus could appreciate the romantic ambience of the room, if nothing else. He spotted Potter and Black on the other side of the room, drinking butterbeer and chatting amiably with several of Slughorn's previous students. It only took a moment for Severus to notice that they were all professional Quidditch players, and he rolled his eyes at their shallowness, instinctively pulling Lily's hand just a little further onto his forearm, allowing his fingers to rest atop hers for just a second longer than necessary before leading her over to the bar.

Lily looked a bit lost at all the wizarding drinks they had on the menu, muttering under her breath that Muggleborns even had a disadvantage when it came to bloody alcohol.

Half-blood though he was, Severus could relate to the sentiment. His Muggle father (good riddance) had openly abhorred anything that had a connection to the magical world. Severus, however, had his Slytherin friends to help educate him on the intricacies of wizarding culture. With a distinctly Gryffindor twinge of heroism, he ordered a tumbler of firewhisky for both of them. Knowing her goody-two-shoes, Head Girl ways, he doubted she'd ever been to any of the common room parties that offered the illicit drink. He found he rather liked the burn of the amber liquid and the way it made his whole body feel artificially warm and comfortable, even if just for a few short hours.

Lily fidgeted with the drink in her hand for a long, awkward moment before taking a sip and coughing in surprise. "That's -" another cough "- not what I was expecting."

Severus' satisfied smirk almost turned into a laugh, but he caught himself. "Try it again. It's better the second time."

The double meaning of his words - and the possibility that their relationship could be better the second time around if given half a chance - was not lost on either of them.

That was stretching it, though, and they both knew it. Severus was just a tad too broken to promise he wouldn't do something to hurt her again. Merlin, he was running around with people who wanted Muggleborns like her dead.

Anything between them wasn't likely to end well, but they could ignore that fact for a night.

They finished their drinks as they talked with Slughorn, and Severus had his first moment of real appreciation for the professor as he went on and on about the perfect potion Severus had brewed earlier that day to several members of the Potion Master's Guild. Finally feeling like he had a moment to shine, Severus was all dry wit and clever remarks about potions research and several theories he'd been experimenting with. Lily looked on with unveiled admiration. She'd always been a sucker for magical knowledge and power, as prim and proper as she made herself out to be. The visitors were so impressed with Severus' work that they invited him to interview with them for a Potions Mastery after he was finished at Hogwarts. He felt like he might just die of happiness right then and there.

His dream girl on his arm, perfect career just an interview away from coming to fruition, and the honeyed glow of firewhisky all came together, colouring the world around him, bringing everything a step up from the usual 'tolerable.'

Lily's eyes were a little glassy as they talked and danced the night away, and it was almost like they'd never had a falling out. Severus pulled her closer with every song, feeling the alcohol dimming his usual desire to keep people - even Lily - at arm's length. He even took it upon himself to sing softly in her ear, his rich baritone causing a shiver of pleasure to race down her spine. Feeling her quiver, even slightly, in his arms was nearly his undoing, but he kept on, murmuring how beautiful she looked and feeling completely content to exist in their own tipsy bubble of togetherness where there were no blood supremacists, no stupid Head Boys, and nothing but the strengthening bond of friendship - and maybe something more - between them.

At the end of the night, when Severus walked Lily back up to Gryffindor Tower, he really didn't expect anything more than a simple 'Goodnight.' The evening had already been so much better than he could have imagined, and he was just glad to be back on speaking terms with his childhood best friend. Instead, Lily allowed her hand to slip down his arm to twine between his fingers, going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

"Thanks, Sev. I had a lovely time."

He laughed breathlessly, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears when he responded, "This has easily been the best day of my life." Running a hand through his shoulder-length hair, he muttered, "Must be something to that ridiculous luck potion after all."

It was said in jest, but Lily took it like a slap to the face. "W-what did you say?"

All of Severus' organs rearranged themselves in his chest, leaving his heart thudding low in his belly and his lungs breathing something that wasn't air. He felt like he was drowning, begging the universe to let him take back those last thoughtless words.

"You used your luck potion to make this happen? To get me to spend time with you? You manipulated me?" Lily demanded, the hurt obvious in her shining eyes and trembling lip. Her skin was creamy and pale normally, but now her freckles stood out like childish crayon marks on her ghostly skin.

"No, no, it doesn't work like that! I was just having a bad day and thought it might help. It did! Merlin, did it help…"

But his explanations fell on deaf ears. He felt the panic turn to anger as she shook her head in indignation.

"You only asked me to go with you to get back at Potter anyway! You've never cared about me for me, you selfish prat! Don't pretend like you're so much better than me."

She gasped, tone mocking as she asked, "So that's what the problem is, then? You're _so much better_ than your filthy Mudblood friend? Well, I hate to break it to you, but we're both from Cokeworth, and we both have top marks in all the classes that matter, so you can just... _bugger off!_ " The last few words were screeched at the top of her voice, and Snape could feel the weight of them as the last thread of their friendship was finally snapped...for good.

Furiously whispering the password so Severus would not hear it and follow her through the portrait hole, Lily disappeared out of sight.

He stood there for a moment, shocked that everything had gone so wrong so quickly, then sank down onto the floor, his back against the wall, head in his shaking hands. When he felt on the verge of hyperventilation, he used his newly acquired occluding skills to block out the pain, hiding the memory away. Though it wasn't a perfect practice, it allowed him another moment to soak in the joy of feeling Lily's lips on his cheek, their hands clasped together as they'd always been when they were kids. On a whim, he pulled out his wand and mumbled, " _Expecto Patronum_."

His heart hammered in his chest as something - far more than the usual wisps of smoke - burst forth from his wand, taking shape on the landing as a…

 _Doe._

The feeling of having his insides in all the wrong places returned, joined with a new, all-encompassing fear that James Potter might be…

Could he even think it?

...His _soulmate._

He considered just running away, obliviating himself, or doing something equally self-damaging and dramatic, but that was really not the way of a Slytherin.

Instead, he started plotting.

XxxX

A few days later, in Defence Against the Dark Arts, it was time to put his plan into action.

The fates must have taken some pity on him after the fallout of the events a few nights before, and James and Lily ended up partnered together to practice their Patronuses again.

Lily was in a snit, probably partly because of Severus, but it was also common practice for her interactions with Potter. They were arguing about head duties, Lily casting the Patronus Charm every few moments to make it look like she was actually paying attention.

Snape had been practising on his own, having been partnered with Pettigrew who would rather work with Lupin or Black, but he held back, not allowing his full Patronus to form just yet. He grinned cruelly, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before he cast his corporeal Patronus, the tip of his wand just centimetres away from Lily's. _See how you and the pig-headed prat of Gryffindor like that, Lily_ , he thought before going back to his own work.

Just as his back was turned, he heard Lily gasp. "Merlin! I did it!" But her excitement was short-lived when she realised just what form 'her' Patronus had taken.

Especially when she saw the look of awe on Potter's face.

Severus' vindictive glee knew no bounds as Lily stuttered her way through an attempt at an explanation, but the happiness froze and shattered, landing like daggers in his stomach when Lily smiled wide, focused intently on the spell, and clearly pronounced, " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

And a beautiful, white doe trotted forth from her wand tip.

Severus' soulmate wasn't James. It was Lily. They were a perfect match, an undeniable pair, bonded together in childhood. Their souls had been perfect mirrors for each other. They could have had everything in common that truly mattered if he had just _let_ them.

Reverently, his tone approaching worship, Potter murmured, "I knew you could do it."

And Severus knew he was done for.

How could he deny Lily that kind of undying devotion and adoration from a man who, no matter how many times he'd bullied Snape, had never treated her like anything less than royalty? He would kiss the ground she walked on and sing arias over the joy of simply sharing the same air.

And he would _never_ call her a 'Mudblood.'

Suddenly reeling at the realization that James Potter was _better_ for Lily than he was, Severus felt sick. He sat down at the closest table, silently commanding the room to stop spinning and the contents of his stomach to stay put.

Professor Lafferty noticed his unusual pallor and strode over. "You look like death warmed over, lad. Go on up and see Madam Pomfrey."

Nodding woodenly, Severus shuffled from the room, oblivious to the green eyes that watched his retreating back until he was out of sight.

Maybe yesterday he would have fought for Lily, fuelled by the artificial bravery the luck potion had granted him. As it was, his gut told him that he'd long since lost this battle, and he listened.

He slunk down to the dungeons, planning to drown himself in the bottom of a bottle of firewhisky.

He should have seen this coming, really.

After all, Severus didn't have good days.


	11. She Sees (LLTN)

She Sees

Pairing: Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott

Rating: T

Summary: Luna Lovegood and Theo Nott run into each other in a bar a few years after the war. They get to talking, exchange numbers, and part ways. Luna texts Ginny to tell her all about it, except...Ginny's isn't the number she messages.

Written for the weekly Rare Roulette challenge over at Fairest of the Rare.

* * *

 _Italics: Luna_

 **Bold: Theo**

 _11:47 pm Ginny! You'll never guess who I ran into at that new bar you told me about._

 **11:50 pm ...This is awkward on multiple levels.**

 _11:51 pm Why is the fact that I met Theo Nott awkward?_

 **11:53 pm Because this IS Theo Nott.**

 _11:56 pm OH! I must've forgotten to go back to Ginny's number after I typed in yours. Perhaps I'm tipsier than I thought. How are you, Theo?_

 **11:57 pm Still good, like I was exactly twelve minutes ago when we last spoke to each other.**

 _12:01 am The tone of your texts say a lot about your aura, you know. I think perhaps you're dealing with a Flibbering Humdinger infestation._

 **12:02 am Please enlighten me as to how those things are all related. I'm DYING to know.**

 _12:04 am Flibbering Humdingers are known for turning otherwise lovely people into mean drunks._

 **12:07 am I...have no idea what to say to that.**

 _12:09 am That's alright. I've been told I say enough for two people when I've been drinking._

 **12:13 am The fact that I'm about to say this is a testament to the fact that I've also been drinking, but...I like that about you.**

 _12:15 am I like everything about you._

 **12:17 am Bloody hell. Why?**

 **12:18 am No, don't answer that.**

 **12:35 am Or don't answer at all. That works too.**

 _12:40 am Sorry, had to take a shower after all that dancing. Hair this long doesn't wash itself._

 **12:42 am Oh. Alright then.**

 _12:45 am And to answer your other question, I see the good in you. You are intelligent, wise, strong because of the trials you've endured, kind beneath your cold exterior. You sat and talked with me for over an hour when no one else from your House at school gave me the time of day. If tonight is any indication, I think I'm going to do more than just like you in the long run._

 **12:50 am You don't know me well enough to say any of that.**

 _12:52 am I see things others don't. You could say it's a gift._

 **12:55 am ...You see all that in me?**

 _12:56 am I see more than that, but I wouldn't want to scare you away._

 **12:59 am I don't think anyone could ever be scared of you, Luna.**

 _1:02 am Good. I think m fallig sleep_

 **1:05 am And here I thought you couldn't get any more adorable. Night, Luna.**

 _1:06 am Sweet dreams my Theo_


End file.
